


History of Atlantis, Part II

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-21
Updated: 2007-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 77,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The History of Atlantis, Part I, is the story of the original Atlantians, sometimes called Ancients or Alterrans.  This is part two, the story of the characters we know.</p></blockquote>





	History of Atlantis, Part II

**O Light the Candle, John**

City never sleeps, so she does not dream. She has too much to do, and too little power to spare: the weight of the ocean pressing against the shield, the currents sliding past her, warm water and cold, friendly neighboring sea-life gliding through those currents, or splashing to the surface. All these distractions must be dealt with as efficiently as possible because her energy levels are dwindling.

Sunk deep in the ocean on this world so far from her first home, City waits. Neither patiently nor impatiently, because she knows time does not flow just one way, as do the currents around her, but that every moment always exists, swirling around her as the ocean itself does, as the galaxy spirals around her.

She knows this with certainty because of Elizabeth, who shares with City memories of their future. When Elizabeth wakes to perform the tasks necessary to keep City alive, she whispers to herself and thus to City. Sometimes she sings. She walks the hallways, trailing her fingers along the warm walls, humming to herself, and to City.

From Elizabeth's dreams in stasis, City learns more. She learns about Elizabeth's home, which was once her home, a home left so long ago that it's no longer home the way this world is, yet still it calls her. City remembers her first children, the ones who set her off on that strange and lengthy voyage and settled her here in this mild ocean. The same ones who left her behind when they returned home. But they also left her Elizabeth for company.

City learns about the ones who will come, and whom Elizabeth is determined not to fail. City resolves to save them as well, and conserves her power, seeking new ways to do her work. She thinks of this as preparing their welcome.

Because Elizabeth was there at their arrival, City knows what to expect. City was there, too, after all; City is always everywhere. Time doesn't flow, time surrounds, time simply is, and City is there with time, everywhere and always. She is back home, she is sailing across galaxies, she is settling in this ocean, she is full of life, and she is empty of all but Elizabeth.

But they are coming, and City and Elizabeth will welcome them when they arrive, just as they are welcoming them now, and have always welcomed them.

City especially waits for John. She remembers what Elizabeth remembers: that John is the special child, with a mischievous grin to hide his pain and fear. City loves John, and waits impatiently for his arrival. She will open her arms to him; the ceiling and floor and walls will light up when he steps through the gate and looks around, because City will recognize and love him.

There are others for whom she also waits: a dozen, Elizabeth has told her. None like John, but then, no one is; still, they're coming and she will welcome them, too. She and Elizabeth will be glad to see them again.

Elizabeth is tired these days. She wakes less and, while awake, spends less time with City. She wants them to come; she can see them as they walk through the gate and up the steps, astonished, thrilled, afraid. City will greet them and comfort them as best she can, she will nurture them and give them the time they need, this time, not last time.

Until then, she and Elizabeth wait impatiently. John, City thinks as she goes about her tasks: John. She remembers John and she waits to meet him; she has always loved John and will treasure him. John is coming home to Atlantis, and she waits for him in hope that he will love her and stay. Elizabeth is weakening. Saying goodbye to Elizabeth will break City's heart; they have worked together for so long and shared so much. But John will come, and the others, and City will love them; she will love them and Elizabeth, and never forget Elizabeth's presence during the long, long years of isolation and darkness.

City waits. She does not sleep, so she does not dream, but she imagines John's face when he finally comes to her. Elizabeth sleeps and City watches over her, touching her dreams softly.

City waits. City was. City is. City loves.

* * *

**I Woke Up This Morning to an Empty Sky**

The _Daedalus_ was overdue. Very overdue. No discussion was needed; everyone knew its due date, and everyone knew the theories why it could be late. Elizabeth announced that, despite the cost to Atlantis, they would be opening the Stargate to contact the SGC. She had struggled with that decision, but her heart knew that rumors would fly if she didn't invite everyone to witness the opening. So she had the Operations Center techs pipe it through the city, and invited the Athosians to be present.

Many crowded into the Operations Center when the time came, and she understood why. She didn't want to be alone, either. Good news or bad, she wanted to be with people she cared about, and who understood the implications when they dialed the gate. This should be ceremonial; it should carry the weight of the moment that it deserved, but she had been at a loss how to accomplish that. Instead, she just glanced at her watch, and then around at the faces she'd come to know so well. Then she nodded at the technician on duty to initiate the dialing sequence.

The room grew quiet except for the noise of the dialing mechanism. There was, as always, an instant of calm, and then the noise of the event horizon exploding. She felt the room tremble around her, and rested her hand on a console. Taking a deep breath, she said into her mic, "SGC, this is Atlantis. General O'Neill, this is Elizabeth Weir of Atlantis. Do you copy?"

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she found herself almost gasping for breath. "SGC?" she repeated. "Come in, SGC." No answer came. She paused, trying to calm herself. The hissing from the speakers and the unremitting grey scrawling across the monitors remained her only answer. Where were they? Why wouldn't they answer? She took a deep breath. "Send through the MALP," she ordered, and three Marines stepped away from it as it rolled from the Pegasus Galaxy and into the Milky Way. "Cameras," she said, looking at a monitor.

"There's nothing there," the technician whispered.

She leaned over his shoulder. "Is it working? There has to be something."

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry." He stood up abruptly, forcing her back. "My mum lives with me in Colorado Springs," he said, his voice shaking. "Ma'am, permission to go through the gate."

"No," she said quickly. "Try again."

"I _can't_," he said, staring at her. "Ma'am, don't you understand? There's nothing there."

"Rodney?" she called. He pushed his way through the crowd, John following him closely.

"Dr. McKay," the technician said. Elizabeth noticed his hands were trembling very slightly. "There's nothing. I'm not getting any readings from the MALP at all. It's just gone."

Rodney didn't respond, just pushed him out of the way and sat, typing commands into the computer interface with the gate. Elizabeth assumed he was issuing commands to the MALP, but whatever he was doing, it was unsuccessful. He frowned, rubbed his face, typed more, and then sat back, exhaling loudly.

She put a hand on his shoulder, hoping for comfort as much as to comfort Rodney. "Shut down the gate," she told him. When the event horizon collapsed, she turned to face the crowd and tapped on her headset. "As you can see, there is no response. I cannot guess what has happened, but only something disastrous could keep Earth from responding."

She paused, expecting some kind of outburst, but these people were professionals, the best Earth had to offer. Halling looked sadly at Elizabeth, and next to him, Teyla's eyes shone with tears.

"John," Elizabeth whispered. He touched her elbow, standing straight. She watched him as he surveyed their colleagues, still quiet in their shock and distress. Beyond him, Rodney stood and turned as well. Elizabeth looked out over all the faces she had come to know in the past eighteen months. She watched Lt. Cadman and Dr. Beckett stare at each other, and Dr. Zelenka sit abruptly, the chair skidding him into Dr. Simpson. Jenny Imoto from food services held a handkerchief to her mouth. Dr. Parrish turned and walked away, out of the Operations Center.

So many people. Over two hundred, now that the _Daedalus_ had been making regular visits. New scientists, a literal changing of the guard, and more tradesmen and laborers and technicians, working a long way from home, and now she had no way to return them, or to bring them news of their friends and families. Of their children or parents. Of an entire world.

She tapped her headset again. She said clearly, pleased with her steady voice. "As you have seen, we were unable to contact Earth. We cannot bring the MALP back to Atlantis, nor are we receiving any readings from the SGC. I can only conclude that something catastrophic has occurred.

"We will continue to attempt to reach Earth, and of course will notify you instantly when we succeed. Until then, we can only continue the work we've started here. Thanks to the Athosians and other trading partners, we will not lack for food or supplies.

"I will be convening a meeting of all department heads in one hour to discuss this. They will be meeting with you in return. No decisions will be made without an opportunity for input from every one of you, from the newest arrivals to the first people to set foot in Atlantis two years ago.

"Thank you. And God keep us and our families safe." She tapped her headset again, and then said to Rodney and John, "Let's move this to my office. Halling, Teyla, would you join us?"

As she led the way to her office, she took in the tears and shocked faces, the unhappy murmur of voices, the reluctance to leave the Operations Center. She hoped her own face didn't betray the terrible fear she felt.

The door slid shut behind them. "Oh my God," Rodney said, and began to pace. "This is -- what the hell happened? I mean, yeah, the States going to war, I can easily see that, but Canada? Can we contact the Asgard? There are other gates we can try, but the cost in power . . ." He looked up at them, his open face showing all his thoughts and feelings. "We are alone. We're stuck here." He paused, looking at John, and said, "We are so totally screwed."

"Rodney, you are with us," Teyla said, taking his hand. Halling nodded. Rodney smiled crookedly at them. John lightly touched Rodney's upper arm.

Elizabeth tried to say, "Thank you," but her voice broke. They stood quietly for a moment, and then Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Thank you," she said again. "We will need your help as never before, dear friends." She cleared her throat and looked at Rodney and John. "I think we need a little break, but we should meet with everyone in the city very soon. Do you have any suggestions?"

"We can't keep trying," Rodney said instantly. "The power drain is too much. We won't be able to protect Atlantis, The naquadah generators can only do so much. I mean, we're getting better at power conservation and generation, but we can't rely on that."

John nodded, but he looked at Rodney. "Maybe we could send microbursts of data through periodically? Is that possible? You've talked about it; can you do it?"

Rodney started shaking his head "no" before John finished asking his question. "Dialing the gate is dialing the gate, whether it's for a nano-second or the full thirty-eight minutes. It's something we've kicked around, but there's no practical way at the moment."

"Then Elizabeth is right. We need to work with everyone from Earth, keep them calm and focused."

"So many of them are new," Elizabeth said. "When we came through, we knew it could be a one-way trip. These people assumed they could go home, that they'd accrue vacation time they could spend on Earth."

"If I may suggest something," Halling said. "I urge you to consider this as a culling. All known worlds but yours have suffered terrible cullings. Even on Athos, in my own time, we lost entire cities."

"A culling," Elizabeth said. She wasn't sure how she felt about conceptualizing the loss of contact of Earth as a culling.

"Halling's right," John said. He looked exhausted, Elizabeth thought, and as though he had a headache as fierce as hers. "We should consider them culled. We have to go on as if we'll never hear from Earth again. Anything else would be a lie."

"Rodney?"

He spread his hands, a meaningless gesture. "Yes, because it's true. No matter what happened on Earth, we should treat it as if the entire population had been culled. The Wraith, the Goa'uld, the Orii, or maybe they just blew themselves up. You Americans always seem to be teetering on the verge of that anyway. It doesn't matter what. They're either dead or as good as dead."

Rodney's words sank home in a way seeing the electromagnetic waves of _nothing_ scrolling across the city's monitors had not. Earth was dead or as good as dead; that was true. They were alone in the Pegasus Galaxy.

Then she looked at Teyla and Halling, their faces full of compassion and understanding. They'd experienced the equivalence of this; they'd lived their entire lives under the threat of losing their home and everyone they'd ever known. Of losing their lives, too, but being dead might be easier than losing home.

"We're not alone," she said, more to herself than the others, and then louder: "We're not alone. The Athosians are, they're _family_," she said, surprising herself. "And we have each other. _We have each other_," she repeated, looking each of them in the eye. "We can't forget that fact. Because each other is all we have."

Elizabeth sighed. "Okay. I want to straighten up a bit, have a few moments to myself." She brushed her hair off her face. "I'll send out an email and we'll meet in the conference room in an hour. Thank you. Thank you so much." She took Halling's hand in hers. "I hope we can be good friends to you even under these circumstances."

He bowed slightly, and then rested his forehead against hers. "As you say, we are family," he reminded her. "Of course we will stay."

Teyla embraced her, kissing her cheek. "I am always here for you," she whispered to Elizabeth.

John and Rodney stayed behind for a moment more. Elizabeth wanted to weep, but it wouldn't be fair to them, and though she doubted it would undermine her authority in their eyes, it would in her own eyes. But she did permit herself to hug John, and to be hugged back. Then Rodney put his arms around both of them, and his warm weight against her back reminded her that she was not alone. She had their intelligence, their loyalty, and maybe even their love.

"Thank you," she finally said. "In one hour, please."

They walked out together, leaving her alone in her office. She looked around, seeing the artifacts she'd collected in the short time they'd been here, each with its own memory and significance: the little clay figures, the ceramic mug, a woven wall hanging in deep shades of reds and blues. Her laptop sat on her desk, waiting for her to send the first email of their new world. A new order.

And she, Elizabeth realized, was in charge. She closed her eyes and sent a prayer to a god who, if he existed, lived in another galaxy: Please, she thought fiercely, trying not to cry; please let me be who they need.

* * *

**We'll Give Ourselves New Names**

Within the first months of the loss of contact with Earth, Radek re-organized the engineers into departments: civil, structural, environmental, and safety. There were too few people, of course, and he was certain, though others wouldn't admit it, that no more would be coming from Earth. Ever.

He also started a school on the mainland, and required his people to teach. Rodney huffed about it, but Elizabeth instantly approved the idea and encouraged other divisions to follow suit. The Athosians wanted their children to learn more about the Ancients, and even some of their allied worlds began sending students. Better to Radek was that they sent teachers as well.

Rodney's arrogance was countered only by his eagerness for new technology, and when he finally realized that many of the cultures they'd encountered in Pegasus were just as technologically advanced if not more than Earth, he threw himself and his staff into the idea of schools. "Just because they disdain utensils doesn't mean they don't have anything to teach us" became his new mantra, usually said while glaring at Ronon. Rodney was one of the first students to study with an expert in computer-mediated communications from M8Y-568, though he rolled his eyes and huffed throughout most of the seminars. "Cyberethics, my ass," he told Radek over dinner, but he kept going to various classes, and once grudgingly said they might possibly have been a good idea.

Elizabeth's negotiation skills proved especially useful and, as word of the school spread, she and Radek began visiting other worlds together, with Major Lorne and Ronon. Ronon was still part of John's first-contact team, but they'd discovered it was good to have him along for the second contact negotiations as well. A familiar face, Elizabeth told Radek, who also appreciated Ronon's size and fighting abilities while off-world.

The treaties they developed included sharing weapons and energy technologies as well as food production and trade. "Now we have weekly runs to make," Lorne explained at a department head meeting, "to deliver and pick up, and maintain a relationship with the people we're working with."

"I think this team needs to make those runs," Elizabeth said. "We made the agreement, they know us, and they trust us. At least for the first few months, we should be there."

"I agree," Teyla said.

Rodney said, "I hate to point this out, but, Elizabeth, you are our de facto prime minister --"

"President," John interrupted.

"Leader," Rodney continued. "You have responsibilities here. It's dangerous out there."

"That's why Ronon and Major Lorne are along."

John and Rodney glanced at each other. Radek leaned forward. "I do not like going through the stargate," he said, meeting each department head's eyes in turn. "I do not like being off-world. I do not like leaving my work in the labs and in the school behind. But I must agree with Elizabeth. We have forged these alliances, and it is our responsibility to maintain them." He sat back and exhaled, nodding to himself. "We must do these things to survive," he added. "If Rodney can go off-world, then I can, too."

"Oh, if it's a competition," Rodney started, but he stopped abruptly. Radek smiled at him. He knew that Rodney was reacting only out of habit, that he didn't have any real objection. They were too few and spread too thinly. "Go, go," Rodney finally said, looking at John. "If Radek is willing to go off-world, it must be a necessity."

John said, "Elizabeth, I'm uncomfortable with this, but I also respect your judgment. If you think you need to take these missions, then I guess you do."

"Under these circumstances," she said, "in this new reality, we all need to contribute, and I think this is, frankly, a strength of mine. It's certainly what I trained for."

Radek hated each time they stepped through the stargate. He knew as well as the others how precarious their situation was. But Elizabeth was a skilled negotiator, and people liked her, even people in the Pegasus Galaxy. Lorne flew the puddlejumper, and he and Ronon would be able to protect Elizabeth. Radek was necessary in case anything went wrong with the puddlejumper or the gate, or if they found some technology that would help them in Atlantis. They made a strong team, he thought. John's team made first contact; his team followed up and cemented the relationship.

Teyla had directed them to Wiht, a planet where the stargate was located in the far southern hemisphere. She told Radek and his team that the people there were anxious to trade for green things and grain, and could offer animals for protein and fur. Radek thought the creatures looked distressingly like oversized rabbits, and called them zajicci, though he realized that was a bad idea when they started appearing on the menu. But the zajicci were tasty, and their fur was beautiful, very soft, pure white, and satisfyingly warm.

The fifth time they'd gone to Wiht, they were caught in a blizzard. "I don't think even Colonel Sheppard could fly out of this," Lorne said apologetically. They stared out the tunnel entrance; the jumper was almost covered with snow already.

"You must not leave in this storm," Testhai said. He was a big man, like Halling, almost as big as Ronon, and very kind to the team. "There is room for you to stay until the storm has ended."

"How long do these storms last?" Lorne asked him.

Testhai shrugged. "At least three days, but usually more. Perhaps a full veccu." Radek wondered how many days were in a veccu, but realized as he stood shivering that it didn't matter. "Come away. Back to the warmth," Testhai urged.

Elizabeth said, "I don't believe we have much choice, Testhai."

"This is an honor," he said, smiling at her. "You will celebrate the gifn with us."

"Celebrate?" Ronon asked, just as Elizabeth said, "Gifn?"

"Yes, a way to thank the gods for giving us this beautiful world. We know we are protected from the Wraith here."

Radek wondered whether that was true; the Wraith hadn't bothered Testhai's people in generations, but was that due to the extreme environment in which they lived, or just luck? He hoped the former, but the Wraith terrified him beyond anything. He believed them capable of any atrocity, including culling from an ice world.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, and touched Radek's shoulder. "We are honored to celebrate gifn with you."

"Yes, of course," Radek said obediently.

Many people crowded into the tunnel city. "Because of the storm?" Radek asked Testhai at dinner that night. He didn't remember seeing so many people in one place before.

"Yes, of course; we are safer gathered together. This is unusually early to gather, but this is an unusual storm. Tonight we will celebrate our gathering and our survival." He stood and raised the shallow bowl he was drinking from. "We survive!" he shouted, and the crowd roared an approving response. "We will thrive!" Everyone stood, raising their own bowls; Radek scrambled to his feet and drank deeply of the hot beverage. Like a spiced cider, he thought, with enough alcohol to make him sleepily happy.

The storm continued. Once a day, the team hiked through the tunnels to the entrance nearest the stargate; the puddlejumper was completely invisible by the second day, and by the third, the entrance was buried. "We will dig through once the storm has ended," Testhai reassured them. They had sophisticated monitors to observe the passage of the storm, and though some were also buried in snow they still sent temperature readings back. Radek didn't know how to convert the Wihtan measurements to anything he could understand, but he trusted them when they said the storm was too powerful to venture into.

Because of the increased numbers of Wihtans sheltering with them, the team was put into one room, covered with mattresses and duvets of zajicci fur. The walls and ceiling were painted as white as the fur, and even though it was an interior room, the air was gelid.

"These Wihtans sure are used to cold weather," Lorne had said early on, and Radek, who remembered Antarctica very well, agreed. The Wihtans wore the equivalent of tee-shirts while the Atlantians wore their jackets all the time, even indoors. At night, to go to bed, Radek put on all his clothes. The third night, though, was cold even for the Wihtans. Testhai came to see them, bringing more furs and a small brazier. "It is very bad," he said, shaking his head. "The worst storm ever recorded this early in the season. After it breaks, I do not think you'll be able to return to us until the next season."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Elizabeth said. "We are so sorry to impose on you."

"Not at all," Testhai said, smiling at her. "We believe that hospitality is a gift to us. We are happy you are here. But stay warm tonight. My son-in-law predicts record lows, and you are not used to the winters here."

Radek was miserable that night. He couldn't sleep, even with all his clothes on, the extra furs, and the brazier glowing. He sat up, shivering, and realized that Elizabeth was softly crying. "What is it?" he whispered, touching her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, her teeth chattering. "It's just that I'm so cold."

Ronon sat up abruptly. "Come here, both of you," he told them. He pulled Elizabeth into his arms. "Bring all the furs," he said to Radek, who quickly obeyed. Just the few minutes out from under the duvets and he was shaking.

"Here, ma'am," Lorne said to Elizabeth, handing her a handkerchief.

"I'm so embarrassed," she gasped out.

"No, no," Radek said, tucking the furs around her even as he shook harder. "It is a miserable night."

"Get in here," Ronon said to him. "Hurry." Radek lay next to Elizabeth, pressing up against her, greedy for her warmth. "Lorne, you, too." Ronon slid over them, so he was behind Radek, and Lorne moved to hold Elizabeth.

"Thank you," Radek said, snuggling into Ronon's body. He knew he should be embarrassed but he felt only gratitude for Ronon's common sense. Already he felt warmer, and in his arms, Elizabeth's trembling seemed to be decreasing.

"Yes, thank you," Elizabeth said. Lorne reached around her, pushing her back into Radek, one of his hands on Radek's waist. Their breath streamed out in white plumes above them.

Radek grew warm enough to relax and even doze a bit. When he woke, he saw the brazier had gone out, and the room was completely dark. Ronon had turned slightly in his sleep, so Radek's head was on his arm. "You all right?" Ronon whispered.

"Must pee, I'm afraid," Radek whispered back. "I don't want to get out of here, though."

"I'll go with you." Ronon tucked the furs closely around Elizabeth and Lorne, then wrapped another duvet around Radek and helped him up. There was a small room with a Wihtan toilet in it not far from them, but by the time Radek reached it, he was shaking so hard he wasn't sure he could pee. Ronon wound himself around Radek and pulled the duvet tighter. "Relax," he said, his voice rumbling in Radek's ear. "Sooner you're done, sooner we can get back."

Radek clung to Ronon for a minute more, until he relaxed enough that the pressure to urinate returned, then peed gratefully. "Now you," he said, and moved aside so Ronon could use the toilet. Even so, when they returned to their room, Radek's teeth were literally chattering, and his fingers and toes were numb. Ronon relit the brazier while Radek mounded the furry duvets over himself, then held up a corner for Ronon. Once they were both back under the covers and huddled next to Elizabeth and Lorne again, Ronon breathed first on one of Radek's hands, warming it, and then the other. "Please," Radek said, not knowing what he was asking, but wanting something so much it hurt. Ronon kissed him, spreading his body over Radek's. "I'm so cold," Radek said, shocked at the kiss and the cold.

Next to him, he felt Elizabeth stir, and when he turned his head, he saw Lorne watching them. "You okay, Doc?" Lorne asked.

"He's too cold," Ronon answered for him. "Is Elizabeth warm enough?"

"Yes," she answered. "Radek, are you all right?"

"Better," he was able to say. He wondered if they were asking about Ronon's kiss.

Elizabeth said, "Major, I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid --"

"That's all right, ma'am. I need to, too."

"I think under the circumstances you should call me Elizabeth."

"Michael, ma'am. Or Mike."

"Mike," Radek said, and to his surprise reached out to touch Mike's face. "I wondered."

"Silly, to use titles after all this time," Elizabeth said as she rose, careful not to disturb the covers around Radek and Ronon. "Oh my god, I can't believe how cold it is. That's ice, I'm stepping on ice --" Mike caught her.

"Let's hurry," he said, and they left.

"You all right?" Ronon asked.

"Much better. You are a good friend." Radek wrapped his arms around Ronon's waist, grateful for his weight and warmth. "Is this what you do with your other team?"

"This is my team," Ronon said. Radek rubbed his cold nose into Ronon's chest; even through all the layers of clothes Ronon was wearing, Radek could feel the heat seep through. He started to feel sleepy again. "Why do you kiss me?" he asked Ronon quietly.

"Shouldn't I"?"

Radek thought. Ronon was so warm, so big. He felt safe with him, cared for and comforted. "I liked it," he whispered. He tilted his head back to look at Ronon, who smiled down at him. In the rosy light from the brazier, he glowed gold and pink. "You are --" But Ronon kissed him again, slower this time, his lips tender and gentle. Radek kissed him back until Elizabeth and Mike returned, sliding under the furs.

"Cold," Elizabeth tried to say. "Icy."

"Switch with her," Ronon said to Radek. He hesitated, embarrassed at the maneuver and reluctant to leave Ronon's warm kisses, but Ronon gently pushed at him. Radek was afraid he'd bodily lift him, so he obediently swung a leg over Elizabeth. She seized him, and the cold from her instantly chilled him right through his clothes. "Let Ronon," Radek said to her, and he surfed across Elizabeth to Mike, who burrowed into Radek. The pocket of warm air Radek and Ronon had created had instantly dissipated, so Radek pulled Mike closer until all four of them were mounded together. Mike wrapped his legs around Radek; under any other circumstances, he would have found it sexual, but Mike was shaking so hard that Radek shook with him.

"We should take our clothes off," Ronon said, but Radek couldn't imagine exposing bare skin to this cold. He snuggled into Mike, who lay almost on top of him, and into Elizabeth's side. Minutes passed before Radek began to relax and get sleepy again.

"Thanks, Doc," Mike said, resting his head on Radek's chest. "We need to prepare better for tomorrow night."

"Mmm," Elizabeth said.

"Go to sleep," Ronon said, and to Radek's surprise, he did.

Radek woke when Testhai entered their room. "This is far colder than we expect this time of year," he said, kneeling at their feet, still wrapped in furs. "This room is too cold for you off-worlders, so tonight you will move to one more interior, and warmer." He stared at them, and slowly added, "We lost two last night." For a moment, Radek didn't understand.

"Two people?" Elizabeth asked.

Testhai nodded. "An elderly man, my brother-in-law's cousin's father, and a newborn." He sighed. "We lose people each winter, of course; who does not? But never so early or quickly." Radek shivered. "Please join us for the morning meal," Testhai said, and left them.

After a long silence, Radek said, "My mother lost a sister to the cold. She was just a little girl herself." Mike rubbed his back, and then they all lay down again, wrapped in the soft white fur. "I'll never see my mother again," Radek murmured. He stared up at the white ceiling. Never see his sister again. Never see his nephew grow up. They might be dead, but he would never know. Nikdy. Nikdy.

Mike put his arm across Radek's chest, and Elizabeth gently kissed him. He realized he was crying, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Beyond Elizabeth, he saw Ronon watching him. "I know you already do this," he said, his English breaking in his distress.

To his surprise, Ronon leaned over Elizabeth and kissed Radek again, in front of the others. "I never wanted anybody to feel the way I do," he said. Radek clutched Ronon's big shoulder.

"We have all lost so much," Elizabeth said, wiping her own eyes.

Mike put his head next to Radek's and stroked his arm. "My guitar," he said. "I know it's stupid and trivial, but I miss my guitar so much. I can't believe I didn't bring it with me, and now it's gone forever."

Radek sniffed. "So much loss." We survive; we will thrive, Testhai had said the night before, and yet there was so much loss. Radek knew it was the news of the Wihtans' loss that had brought this on, and that and their isolation from Atlantis. What if they lost everyone? His heart couldn't take that. At least he had these people, his new home, his work. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to breathe deeply and slowly. The warmth made him sleepy, but it was time to get up. He sniffled again, and looked at Mike and Elizabeth and Ronon. His team. He smiled and wiped his nose.

At least he had these people.

* * *

**And I Don't Know Which Way Home**

Kate had run to Elizabeth's office, interrupting a session to do so, the minute her voice had spoken into Kate's headset. She knew that Elizabeth would never have interrupted her unless the situation was critical. She sent her patient off with a cheerful promise to meet the next day, and then hurried to the nearest transporter.

Elizabeth had her diplomat's face on; Kate recognized it instantly. She froze in the doorway, took a deep breath, and stepped into the office. "This is bad," Elizabeth said. "And I think it's going to get worse."

Kate hugged Elizabeth, who rested stiffly against her. "What happened?"

"Katie Brown killed herself."

Kate found she couldn't speak. She cast her mind back to the last time she'd seen Katie. She was seeing everyone these days; Elizabeth had mandated that the very afternoon they had tried to contact the SGC via the stargate almost nine months ago. "I need my notes," she murmured. "But I saw her last week. No, I saw her at dinner two nights ago, but I met with her last week. She was upset, of course, but everyone is." Kate thought back. She'd seen so many people so quickly, and she had her own fears to contend with. "I need to check my notes," she repeated.

"Of course."

"Did she leave a note?"

"If so, it hasn't been found yet."

"Elizabeth, how are you?"

Elizabeth took a very deep breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly exhaled. Tears filled her eyes. "How many more?"

Kate hugged her tighter, and finally Elizabeth hugged her back. "I don't know. Not many. But based on experience, with this number of people, facing this kind of trauma, it had to happen. I'm sorry. But it had to happen."

"Yes, of course." Elizabeth pulled away, walked to her desk, and plucked a tissue from a drawer. "Have to start conserving these," she said, wiping her eyes. "Switch to handkerchiefs, like my grandmother used to use. She always said a lady wore white underwear and carried an embroidered handkerchief." Kate knew Elizabeth was talking to distract herself, so she remained quiet, watching. "This is a nightmare," Elizabeth murmured.

"Who knows about Katie?"

"Staff Sergeant Ochoa, who found her. He contacted Dr. Beckett. Several nurses assisted him. Ochoa reports to Major Lorne, who told me. I'm sure he's told Colonel Sheppard by now as well."

"You'll need to make an announcement right away, then. You don't want rumors to fly."

"Yes, and there'll need to be a service. Who knew Katie?"

"She and Dr. McKay dated briefly. She was friends with Lt. Cadman."

"Please wait. I'll ask them to join us." Elizabeth tapped her headset. "Rodney, I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but please come to my office." There was a long silence and then Elizabeth said, "You've already heard." Kate watched Elizabeth pull herself together as she spoke with Rodney. "Do you know if Laura knows?" She wiped her eyes again, and looked in a tiny mirror, dabbing at her makeup. It occurred to Kate that she didn't know whether they could buy more lipstick or foundation in the Pegasus Galaxy. She should ask Laura, who went off world periodically. Or Elizabeth. She had been going off-world now for several months. She would know. "Thank you, Rodney. Yes, please do that."

Elizabeth looked at Kate. "Rodney suggested a meeting in the mess hall. I think that's a good idea. He's going to send out a city-wide email requesting everyone's presence."

"It is a good idea," Kate said. "And Laura?"

"Rodney's going now, to tell her himself." Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "He's more sensitive than I think any of us realized."

Kate nodded. "Rodney's a better man than he likes to let us know."

Elizabeth laughed, short and sharp and not very amused. "He is, isn't he. I'm glad he's with us." She looked up at Kate. "My god, I shouldn't say that; how can I be glad he's here when we're cut off from home?"

Kate embraced her. "It's all right, Elizabeth. We owe our lives to Rodney; of course you're grateful for his presence. Unless there's something more I can do now, I'm going back to my office to look up my notes on Dr. Brown. I'll contact you as soon as I've reviewed them, and you call me for anything. I mean, that. For anything."

"Thank you, Kate. So much." Elizabeth turned to look out at the Operations Center. Fewer people were stationed there these days; so many were working on the mainland, or in the hydroponics labs. The research being done to create a sustainable lifestyle took precedence over the more academic research or military activities that had earlier filled this Center.

The stargate stood silent, witness to their loss and fears. Kate was growing to hate it, its demand for energy that they could not provide, its refusal to contact Earth.

Kate turned and walked back to her office.

Rodney's idea was a good one. People, Kate knew, needed to be together at times like this. She would never tell Elizabeth, but she'd been surprised that no one had died sooner. Accidental death and death through carelessness had occurred before in Atlantis; the scientists and military worked with too much alien technology not to have suffered a share of serious and even fatal mishaps. But since the news, since the loss of contact, none had occurred. She'd wondered why. She'd wondered when. Now it was here, the first death after the news.

She sat at her desk intending to call up her notes about Katie, but lay her head down on her arms before reading anything. She remembered Katie sitting across from her, talking about her older sister, who had MS, and how kind Rodney had been, in his gruff, sarcastic way, when they realized that dating wasn't working out for them. "He's arrogant," Kate could hear her saying in her soft voice, "but he always takes responsibility."

"That's a good quality," Kate had responded.

Katie nodded, smiling. "Funny how it's easier to like him now that we're not trying to be together."

She raised her head and forced herself to read the notes she'd written after Katie had left that day. As she'd known, there was nothing in them about fearing Katie might harm herself. She missed her family, of course; she'd always planned to return home and care for her sister when she got worse, but that was years away. Katie's sister, Chloe, was on several medications that slowed the progression of MS. One of the reasons Katie had come to another galaxy was in the hope she'd find medicine or technology to help her sister.

Kate realized that she didn't know how she felt herself. Still in shock, of course. There weren't that many of them in Atlantis, and, like Elizabeth, Kate knew every single member of the expedition. Some she'd been seeing regularly prior to the news, but she'd met with every one of them at one time or another.

Since the notes were up, she added the information that Katie had killed herself. She needed to find out how, and whether she'd left a note. Maybe she could learn something that would prevent future suicides.

She slammed the laptop closed and stood up. First she needed to get out. She wished she could move to the mainland. Atlantis was suddenly too crowded for her.

Within ninety minutes, Elizabeth made a city-wide announcement requesting that everyone come to the mess hall. Kate was there; she'd combed her hair and reapplied her makeup, looking as coolly professional as she could. She stood next to Colonel Sheppard while Elizabeth shared the terrible news. Word had already spread, she saw, and several women were crying. She made a point to comfort them individually, and insisted they come to see her. "Anytime," she told them. "I'll be available anytime."

Rodney looked subdued, and his eyes were red. He'd stood up with Elizabeth while she made the announcement, and then said a few words himself. "Talk to each other," he'd said earnestly. At first, Kate was surprised, but she realized that Rodney had no problem expressing his feelings orally and would never understand that some people kept their fears hidden. "Watch each other. We're all we have." He'd looked at Elizabeth, then Radek Zelenka, and finally Colonel Sheppard when he'd said that; they had nodded at him. Kate felt guilty at her surprise at his sensitivity.

Lt. Ochoa had stood next to Carson; both men looked shocked and pale. "Lieutenant," Kate said softly to him. "I expect to see you soon."

"Yes, ma'am," he'd said, looking at Major Lorne.

"I'm scheduled to see you tomorrow," Lorne told her, and she knew it was a message for Ochoa more than for her.

Rodney stopped by to talk to her afterwards. "There was a note," he told her quietly, his mouth pulled down. He looked so sad. "I found it very quickly. Not addressed to anyone; does that mean something? It just says that she couldn't bear the thought of never going home." He shook his head. "Why would she give up so quickly? We've only begun to explore our options."

"I don't know," Kate said, taking his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, well. We weren't -- it's not my loss. I mean, it's a loss to all of us. She was good at what she did, and a nice person." He rubbed his nose. "A nice person."

"Rodney," Colonel Sheppard said. "Buy you a cup of tea?"

Rodney shrugged. "With enough honey in it, it's bearable." The two men walked away, leaving Kate watching them. Sheppard lightly touched Rodney's upper arm, a quick, gentle pat of comfort. They'd be okay, she thought. They were tough and smart and optimistic by nature, even though they'd each deny the last quality. John would say he was a pragmatist, and Rodney would claim to be a pessimist. But she knew better.

It was late before she got to bed, but she couldn't sleep. She kept trying to find some hint in Katie's behavior that she might have caught to prevent this. Tossing and turning, she saw Katie's face, heard her soft voice, remembered her stories about her sister and parents. She wondered about the note, and why it hadn't been addressed to anyone but simply left on her computer.

She also wondered about the easy availability of weapons here. Katie had killed herself with a P-233 pistol, something everyone trained with at least once a week. Kate realized that literally every person in the city could choose that option. They'd been so carefully selected, people who had to be a little mad to agree to step through a stargate without knowing if they could ever return, but stable enough to work in isolation and under extreme pressure. They'd been tested up one side and down the other.

Humans were, ultimately, unknowable. No matter what anyone said to Kate, she fully believed that was true. She believed in actions, in behavior, in day-to-day living. Katie had lived carefully. She was a hard worker who loved what she did.

Time would, Kate knew, help, as would her work and her friends. She wished it were six months from now, so the terrible pain would be over. In six months, Earth might even have reached out to them. If only she could be patient. More patient that Katie had been. She needed to believe in her colleagues. As Elizabeth liked to say, they were the best Earth had to offer. They could survive anything.

And yet Katie had put the muzzle of her P-233 into her mouth and fired. Her hands were still on the gun when Ochoa found her. He'd heard the shot and raced to find her on one of the balconies looking toward the mainland. It had been, Kate thought, a blazingly beautiful day, the sun glittering off the water. She written the note, left her lab carrying her weapon, gone to the balcony, and killed herself within a twelve-minute period. If someone had bumped into her, or called to her, the delay might have changed her mind. It probably would have. Any kind of delay often deterred suicide; Kate knew this. But Katie had not been interrupted. No one had called her name or chased after her. She'd left her lab and then her life in moments.

The next day, Kate went to the balcony where it had happened. It was another beautiful day, though breezier than the day Katie had killed herself. She stood looking at the flooring, wondering if she could see bloodstains or if the floor was simply patterned like that, with those deep brown and dark red colors. Her heart raced, and she had trouble catching her breath. No ghost of Katie Brown remained, though. No shade demanded anything of Kate. There was nothing.

Kate saw more people more often afterward. She scrutinized everyone she met, whether in her office or in the corridors or mess hall, trying to assess if one of them would be next. She especially studied Elizabeth and John, the two carrying the heaviest burdens. She met with Carson, and Rodney, and Mike Lorne. She took careful notes, and stayed up late transcribing them into her computer.

"You need to sleep more, love," Carson told her, even though he was there as her patient. "Do you want some medicine to help you?"

"I'm fine," she said, smiling at him.

"No, Kate. You're not fine. None of us is fine," he said firmly. "I'm scared to death, and I miss me mum so much it feels like my heart will stop." Tears filled his eyes.

"Tell me about your mother," she said, and he beamed at her.

"The sweetest thing you'll ever meet," he said. "Just a love, and oh, such a cook. Her scones would melt in your mouth. We'd sit and have tea and talk about anything. I could tell her anything." He wiped his eyes. "I do miss her. I hope she's all right. I tell myself that she's fine, but it's not knowing that's so hard."

"It is hard," she agreed. "Not knowing is harder than knowing the worst."

He nodded, and sniffed. "But you're changing the subject. As much as I love talking about my mother, you're still not sleeping enough. I'm going to bring you something tonight, and I want you to take it."

"Yes, doctor," she said.

"That's a love."

But she didn't take his pills; there simply weren't enough hours in the day to see everyone who needed to see her and to take the quality of notes she demanded of herself.

"She never said a word," Katie's colleague and friend Laurent du Plessis told Kate. "I thought we were close. We worked together, but also did stuff -- saw movies, worked out; we were in a reading group together. Nothing. Not a hint." He wiped his eyes. "She was a wonderful girl."

"Did she ever mention Dr. McKay?"

"No, no. I mean, yes, she was disappointed that their relationship never developed, but definitely not suicidal over it. I mean, it's McKay, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, nothing, really. Just a joke." He looked at her. "Are you all right, Dr. Heightmeyer?"

"Just looking for a reason. No one knows anything. I don't understand." To her embarrassment, tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Laurie. I don't pretend to be as good a friend to Katie as you were."

Laurie leaned forward and patted her hand. "It's all right, Kate. There aren't many of us here; of course you feel the loss." He hesitated, and then said, "Look. Some of us meet for about twenty minutes each evening, after dinner. We do a little meditation. Mindfulness practice, actually."

"So you sit? And just focus?"

"Yes, exactly. We had been meeting once a month, but since everything happened, we started doing it every night. Katie had always attended." He wiped his eyes again, and blew his nose. "She was there the night before."

"And no one noticed."

"No, we've talked about it over and over. It was so --" He shook his head. "Come tonight, Kate. We'd be happy to have you join us, and I know all of us want to talk about Katie. We want to understand."

"Thank you, Laurie. I might come."

"Good. We meet in that room around the corner from the mess hall. If you come to dinner around seven, I'll walk you there."

Kate thought seriously about going. She felt a longing for the quiet of her quarters, but she also wanted to learn more about Katie. Spending a quiet half an hour with her friends could help, and she might be able to help them in return. She glanced at her wristwatch, aware that Carson wouldn't approve of the number of hours in her days, but duty called her. She was obligated.

At the meeting, Laurie asked Kate something she had been pondering: "How many more of us are at risk?"

"There's no way to know with certainty. Statistically, about twelve out of a hundred thousand Americans kill themselves each year; more try and fail, of course, and that number is probably under-reported. But our circumstances are so extreme . . " Kate trailed off. She realized that she didn't want to talk about suicide, or statistics, and she certainly didn't want to talk about Katie. She put a hand to her mouth, as if to block speech, she thought, even as she struggled with her emotions. As if to block her feelings, she realized. She dropped her hand to her lap and sat up straight.

Laurie nodded, and Laura Cadman put an arm around Kate's shoulders. Carson looked sadly at her. "You mustn't blame yourself," he said, and Kate knew that. Of course it wasn't her fault. If she'd seen anything, she would have acted. Katie had given her no direct or indirect clue that she was considering taking her own life. She had been depressed, but who wasn't? They'd lost contact with Earth for nearly a year, with little hope of return. Carson hadn't discovered alcohol in her blood, she was well, she was employed in a vital field, her impulse control was, if anything, too high.

All inhabitants of Atlantis were experiencing feelings of hopelessness; certainly Kate was. She missed her friends and family so much she actually ached, as if homesickness were a kind of influenza that had worked deep into her bones.

"Kate?"

She looked up; the others were watching her closely. Laura squeezed her shoulders, and Laurie patted her hand again. "I'm sorry," she said, and rose. "I need to work on my notes."

"Kate, stay," Laurie said, not letting go of her hand. "Stay with us. We need to be together, to remember that we're not alone. I don't know what happened to Katie," and his voice broke but he continued, "but I do know I don't want it to happen to anyone else."

"I'm fine," she said, kneeling in front of him. "I need to go over my notes. Maybe I missed something. I can't risk that, I can't risk anyone else."

"Laurie's right," Carson said. "We shouldn't be alone. Stay with us."

"Sit with us while we do our mindfulness practice," Laurie urged her. "Even if you just sit quietly, you'll feel better. More connected."

"I can't. Not tonight. But I promise I will soon." She pulled away. "Thank you. What you're doing here -- it's lovely. I wish Katie." She found she couldn't speak. "I wish," she whispered, and left.

* * *

**Like Gold to Aery Thinness Beat**

"Sweetie, I'm off-world today, remember?"

Carson stretched and opened his eyes to find his wife dressed in her BDUs and Tac-vest. "Where's that pretty nightie we traded for?"

She kissed him. "I'd be a fine sight stepping through the stargate in that little thing," she said, and sighed. "I wish I could stay in bed with you." She sat next to him and touched his cheek. "You look so sexy like this."

He took her hand and kissed it, then moved it down his body until it covered his rising cock. "Aw, love," he said, pushing into her hand. "Lovely Laura."

"You are my mad, bad Scot," she said, squeezing him firmly, and then kissing him. "But I have got to go. How will I explain being late?"

"Your wifely duties," he said, trying to look pitiful. She gave him one last squeeze and then stood.

"Look up _uxorious_ before I get home," she told him. "Have a good day."

"Laura," he said when she reached the door. She stopped and looked back at him. She was so beautiful, even in those heavy, cumbersome clothes. "Please come home safely to me."

She smiled sweetly at him. "No matter which planet I'm on," she said, "I'm here with you." She held up her left hand, her ring catching the light. "And you're with me." Then she was gone.

Carson sighed and rolled over, pushing his cock into the mattress. He was more than tempted to jerk off, but he had work to do, both in the infirmary and in his lab, especially since he was scheduled to work on the mainland tomorrow. Dr. Biro took the night shift, bless her heart, but he vastly preferred his clinical work to working with patients; as Chief Medical Officer he had many responsibilities.

Then he remembered that Jinto and Vesa were working in the clinic today, and that he needed to prepare for them. Kavanagh was tutoring them in chemistry, and Rodney in maths, the poor lads, while he was making sure they had hands-on experience. They needed to combine the knowledge of the Athosian healers with their Earth medicine and the Ancients' instruments. Radek's idea of a University of Atlantis was being well-received throughout the galaxy; even the communities that eschewed technology for fear of attracting the Wraith were anxious to send representatives, both to teach and to learn. Perhaps new allies would be gained as a result.

He climbed out of bed and prepared for his day. Before he left his quarters, he kissed the photo of his mum, as he had each day since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy, and then his wedding ring. A silly superstition, but it meant a great deal to him. Let nothing happen today, he thought as he did each morning. After all these years, he still missed the quiet of his laboratory back in Antarctica where, when exciting things happened, they didn't entail death and destruction.

Walking to the transporter, he reviewed his to-do list; it was massive, of course, as was everyone's. At first, when the _Daedalus_ hadn't turned up and when they couldn't reach Earth, he had had to focus on the emotional and physical care of the expedition members. Then, when Kate Heightmeyer had killed herself by taking an overdose of diazepam, lorazepam, and hydrocodone, he'd tried to help even more, but he was a lousy psychologist. Rodney had been just as much and maybe more help in his own abrasive way. Later, Karen Rafiq had contributed enormously. But initially, the burden had primarily fallen on him and Elizabeth.

The loss of Kate seemed to devastate Elizabeth more than the loss of Earth; those had been the worst days. Carson hadn't known if she would recover emotionally. She'd withdrawn, first to her quarters, but even after she'd returned to work, she was different. Quieter and sadder, of course, but everyone was, and they kept on going. Well, in truth, Elizabeth had as well, of course she had, but Carson's heart had ached to see her move in an ocean of silence.

She was their leader, and to lead meant to go in advance; by definition, it meant she was alone. But there were levels of _alone_; Carson knew them well. Coming to another galaxy had taken such courage, and leaving his mother behind, knowing he might never see her again, had hurt his poor heart nearly to death.

But here he was, years later and, though he missed his mother terribly and the quiet laboratories he'd left so far behind, he was in love with his beautiful new wife, and knew that the work he did helped others throughout an entire galaxy.

Elizabeth, too, had recovered, through more slowly than Carson had. She had been saved, he thought, when her off-world team had been formed. John's team continued as first contact; Elizabeth's team did the follow-up negotiations. Initially, Carson had been opposed to the idea -- what if something happened to Elizabeth? They would be leaderless. John was a good man, a man Carson respected, but no one in two galaxies expected him to wind up in charge of a military operation, let alone the entire city of Atlantis. And though Rodney had hidden depths, as Laura told Carson, he would be the first to say he was too important to be a bureaucrat instead of a scientist.

Now Carson agreed that the idea of a negotiation team had been a good one. Giving Elizabeth the opportunity to use her skills had made her feel valuable again, had woken her attention and intelligence from the depression she'd been sinking into. But better yet, it had given her a team: three people who loved her and cared for her. Carson had never much cared for stupid rules; that Mike Lorne was an American violating antiquated regulations only meant the expedition had moved past petty nationalist concerns.

Mike was really no longer an American, Carson thought as he sat at his desk and logged into his email, any more than he was a Scot or Rodney a Canadian. They were Atlantians now. In his opinion, the difficult years had burnt away the trivial social appearances and left them who they really were. All they had left was their true selves, and those selves were, Carson believed, made up of love.

He walked into the infirmary; to his left, three people waited in the chairs shoved up against the wall. "Good morning, good morning," he told them. "Nancy?"

The night nurse looked up from where she was taking Sgt. Cameron's blood pressure. "Dr. Biro is with a patient." She nodded toward a partitioned-off area.

Carson called, "Dr. Biro?" He pushed back the curtain to find her peering into Dr. Corrigan's mouth.

"Ah, Carson. Have you any dental experience?"

"Not recently. What have we here?" He leaned over her shoulder so he could also see. "Oh, dear. How'd you break your tooth?"

"Ah ook-ee," he said. "In ess all."

"A cookie in the mess hall," Dr. Biro translated. "See? The tooth is split right to the gum."

"There's a good chance that's due to gum disease," Carson said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When's Dr. Darling due back from the mainland?"

"Not until tomorrow." She removed the light and probe from Dr. Corrigan's mouth. "Can you manage until he returns, if we give you something for the pain?"

"Naproxin?" Carson asked, turning to fetch some, as Nancy handed him a paper cup with two in it.

"You're on a soft diet," Dr. Biro instructed Dr. Corrigan. "Custard, ice cream, or jello, until Dr. Darling returns. I'll be with you in a moment, Carson."

"I'll be in my office," he said, turning away.

Settling at his tiny desk, tea brewing and a packet of ginger biscuits scenting the infirmary air, Carson launched his email application, fiddling with his wedding ring while waiting for it. He wished him mum could know his wife. The two most important women in his world, and they lived in separate galaxies. If his mum still lived.

He brushed that terrible thought aside, tapping his wedding ring for luck one final time before checking his email while he waited for Dr. Biro. Another day was beginning.

* * *

**We Look for Communion**

Mike Lorne sat in his warm, dry quarters in Atlantis, remembering the storm on Wiht. Extreme cold explained a lot, but he wasn't sure that weather could account for everything that had happened there. Or anything that had happened in the months since then.

He had admired Elizabeth Weir ever since he'd arrived in Atlantis. Who wouldn't? And who wouldn't find her attractive? Fortunately for Mike, even before they'd lost contact with Earth, Sheppard had spent so much time off-world that he'd instructed Mike to attend all department head meetings so there would be some continuity for the military attached to Atlantis. It meant that he had had ample opportunity to fall a little bit in love with her.

Attached to Atlantis -- was that really the right phrase anymore? Where else would they go? This was home, or at least their permanent place of residency, and what was that but the definition of home? It was where they had to take you in? Right now, he had no other home. None of them did.

Lorne was good at the bureaucratic stuff; certainly better than Sheppard. Lorne had worked at the SGC for a long time; he'd never heard of Sheppard until he'd been discovered in Antarctica, where he'd been sent in the hopes he'd give up and go away. Lorne knew that no one ever intended Sheppard to do more than be a living light switch for Ancient equipment, yet here he was, the Chief Military Officer, leader of the Atlantian equivalent of SG-1, and -- somewhat to Mike's surprise -- an all-right guy. Someone he not only liked but respected. He was generous, too, with praise and responsibility. He listened to his men in a way that most of Lorne's superior officers hadn't. He also listened to Elizabeth, which only increased Lorne's respect for him.

He wondered what Sheppard would do when he found out. Because he'd have to find out. All of Atlantis would find out. They'd kept this secret for months and months, but he wasn't sure how much longer he wanted it secret. This wasn't anything he was ashamed of. This was who he was. Atlantis had transformed him.

"Mike? Major Lorne?" Radek's voice woke him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, come in." Radek's hair was wilder than usual. He stood just inside the door, frowning. "Sit down." Mike patted the bed beside him. "Something up?"

Radek took a deep breath and pushed up his glasses. "What we do." Mike's  
stomach rolled, and he felt hot and cold all at once. "What we do -- I never do. Never."

"Me, either. Radek, look, if you -- if this isn't something you want, just tell me."

"No, not to stop. Very much not to stop, never that." He stared into Mike's eyes; Mike felt he was asking for something but he wasn't sure what. Hesitantly, he put a hand on Radek's knee, who immediately covered it with his own, but still didn't speak.

"Oh," Mike said. They'd never done anything in Atlantis, only off-world and in a safe place. Mike watched Radek's expressive face; what was it with scientists that every emotion washed across their faces so easily? No training in hiding their feelings at all. Radek was looking at him now the way he had the first time, in bed on Wiht. Lost and a little scared, but so brave. "How did you get here?" he wondered.

"Here? To your room? Took great courage. Also, Rodney is particularly annoying today. He doesn't like me going off-world."

"Well, fuck him," Mike said, defensive about Radek's abilities. Radek's face changed, and Mike saw desire mixed in with his fear. He remembered lying in the white furs, Radek on one side, Elizabeth on the other, and Ronon above him; he remembered watching Ronon kiss Radek, and realizing what he wanted. Each off-world visit had been an opportunity to explore not only the Pegasus Galaxy but what they could be to each other. "What we do off-world," he murmured, and leaned closer.

"Yes, please," Radek said. Mike leaned closer, staring at Radek's lips. Should they do this here? He wanted to do it here. He wanted a hell of a lot, more than he thought he should want.

He raised his eyes to look into Radek's. They gazed at each other, Mike feeling more and more like a fool, when suddenly Radek kissed him. They fell back onto the bed. "I was afraid," Radek said.

"Don't be. I want this. I want all of you all the time."

"Then wait, wait." Radek sat up a bit, and tapped his headset. "Elizabeth, Ronon? Are you there? I am with Major Lorne. We would like to meet. Here, in Atlantis, in his quarters."

Mike laughed, covering Radek's speaker. "I thought you were afraid?" he whispered.

"Not with you," Radek said. "Ah, they are coming. Please don't make a pun now."

"I'll wait till they get here for that."

"I do not wish to wait," Radek said, kissing Mike. Even all these months later, kissing Radek still felt frighteningly new, both erotic and taboo and so even more arousing. Radek's whiskers scratched Mike's face; his hands were warm and a little sweaty as they worked their way beneath Mike's tee-shirt and stroked his chest. Mike's stomach clenched in excitement.

In a few minutes when the door chimed, Mike gasped, "Come in," without thinking. Radek was lying on top of him, and he had his legs wrapped around Radek's hips, but it was too late, and fortunately Elizabeth and Ronon were there, not the colonel looking for him or Rodney looking for Radek.

"Shit, yeah," Ronon said when he saw them, and began shedding his clothes.

"Elizabeth," Radek said softly, holding out his hand.

"Ellie-lizzie-bethie," Mike said, reaching out as well. She dropped her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Ronon lifted her chin and kissed her, gently at first, then more deeply. "Elizabeth," he whispered; Mike saw her shiver. Ronon began to undress her, careful with the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. Mike scooted over to make room for them. Ronon led her to the bed, where she sat, looking first up at Ronon, and then back at Mike and Radek.

"We've never -- I thought we agreed -- I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing," Ronon advised. "Not a negotiation."

"He's right," Radek said. "This just is."

Mike nodded. They were both right. Always before they'd waited till they were off-world, probably because it had started off-world. Somehow, the terrifying cold on Wiht had made it possible. During the blizzard, they had stayed in rooms bitterly cold even with two braziers burning. One night, Ronon had stripped his clothes off before climbing under the furs, and Mike had done the same, knowing that Ronon was right, it would be easier to stay warm nude, but also knowing he was sick of being alone, sick of not being able to touch and be touched. So when Ronon had rolled on top of him, Mike had opened his legs and arms and then his mouth, kissing Ronon in front of a stunned Elizabeth and Radek.

Then Ronon had looked up at them. "You want this, too," he said in his abrupt way. Mike envied him his ability to see and speak the truth so plainly. Elizabeth had looked at Radek, who had embraced her, kissing her shyly while pulling her down and under the covers and into their arms.

She was the center of his team, the center of this family that had magically developed in their search for safety, for food and supplies, for a way to make a life in this terrifying place. Mike had fantasized about her since he'd begun working with her; she was an important reason he was grateful to Sheppard for having him attend so many meetings. When they'd lost contact with Earth and their team had formed, he thought his heart would break each time she ventured through the stargate; each time, he swore that nothing would happen to her on his watch.

And then they'd been caught in the blizzard from hell, huddled in small cold rooms.

"Where are you?" she asked him, and he realized the other three were watching him. "Back on Earth?"

"No," he insisted. "Here, with you all. I'd never have found this on Earth."

Ronon leaned down and kissed Mike. "You had to come this far so this could be. I had to run for all those years so we could do this."

"You're saying this was inevitable?" Elizabeth asked, but Radek pulled her back so she was lying next to him and Mike, and Ronon carefully fit himself on top of them.

"Shh," Radek said. "Philosophy later, yes? Now, we fuck." Mike grinned. Only they got to see this side of Radek.

"Dr. Zelenka!" Elizabeth said, and kissed him. Mike kissed Elizabeth's cheek and ear, and then Radek's, then Ronon, and finally Elizabeth again. "I wanted this for so long," he tried to explain to her, but his mouth felt swollen. No matter how many times this happened, it was never enough.

Tonight, by some unspoken agreement, the other three focused on him, stroking his body, kissing and sucking him, until he trembled in desire. His ass, his balls, his dick, his fingers, his hipbones, his throat, his mouth, his entire body soaked up the sensation until he felt as if he were floating above the bed, like some astral projection experiment gone sexual. Never had he experienced orgasms like this, whole-body orgasms that made him cry out almost in pain from their intensity. Elizabeth sat on his dick and rocked, bringing herself to orgasm while Ronon finger-fucked him and Radek kissed him, his fingers joining Ronon's, and Mike gasped and twisted and begged, and still they kept on, till he was sweaty and satiated and exhausted.

They piled together in Mike's small bed, and as satisfied as he was, he couldn't help continuing to touch them, stroking Radek's wild hair, fingering Ronon's heavy necklaces, fondling Elizabeth's breasts. They were beautiful in three different ways, and for some reason the Pegasus Galaxy had given them to him.

He missed Earth. He missed his guitar. He missed his family and his friends. But in return, he had this new family that roused him to emotions he'd never known before.

He saw that Ronon was watching him, and smiled. "Inevitable, huh," he said as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Elizabeth or Radek.

Ronon nodded, looking very serious. He rested a hand on Mike's face, then kissed him. "This is what I was running to," he whispered.

Mike kissed Ronon's hand where it lay against his cheek. Maybe that was true. Maybe there was causality in the universe, or at least in the Pegasus Galaxy. Mike had never believed that he was supposed to be happy; life didn't work that way. You were supposed to be useful, do a good job, and bring honor on yourself. But now, he thought he could do that and be happy as well. More than that, he thought he could make these people happy in return.

"Maybe," he finally said, but Ronon had fallen asleep. Mike watched over them until he slept, too.

That was the first time they'd been together in Atlantis. Mike had been afraid it would change things somehow, or maybe that others would see what they'd done, but instead, when he woke the next morning in the pile of his teammates, he felt immensely strong. He'd never felt this way about a team before, and acknowledged to himself that their isolation was probably causing his feelings. But he also acknowledged that he didn't care; what he cared about was being with them, whether sitting quietly in a meeting while they discussed upcoming missions, or picnicking on the South Pier where the gardens were, or swimming at a favorite beach on the mainland.

One Friday evening they flew the puddlejumper through the gate to a bright morning on a world the Ancients' database recorded as possessing a level of technology that might help them, Radek's materiel departments were hungry for all kinds of supplies. Things that Mike had never before considered important had, with the removal of Earth as a re-supplier, suddenly become rare and valuable. Here they hoped to find a chemical factory still working; Teyla thought she had heard about it as a child. They'd made chemicals for preserving food, pesticides, and a few medicines.

Mike cloaked the jumper as they exited the wormhole and spent a few minutes surveying the land. "Anything interesting, Radek?" he asked.

"No. No, the opposite of interesting. Fly there," Radek said, pointing. "Slowly as you can. No, Elizabeth, please give me one moment."

Mike kept one eye on the HUD and another on the ground; they were flying over a city, but he couldn't see any inhabitants. "Doc?"

"There is nothing," Radek said. "No life signs at all according to this."

"Could they be somewhere else?" Elizabeth asked. "Working in the fields? Underground?"

"Not everyone would leave," Radek said. "This is a highly industrialized place. But there is no heat signature from any building. No power sources. Nothing."

"They were culled," Ronon said.

Mike slowly banked and took them in a wide circle above the city. He was sure Ronon was right; this city was dead. He knew from Radek that the scientists, including Dr. Beckett, believed that because the Wraith had been woken too early, they were taking too many people, wiping out entire cities and nations. On some of the more sparsely populated worlds, there was no one left at all.

Like here.

"What should we do?" he asked after the third pass over the city.

"We need what they don't," Ronon said.

"Grave robbers," Radek said. "But he is right; the dead have no use for what is here. We must locate the factory, if it still exists. Bring back not only material but also the equipment to make it ourselves."

Mike nodded. "Radek? What looks industrial to you?"

"Ah, yes. Good question. I notice in that direction, you see? The buildings are larger and closer together, with smaller windows. We really need an anthropologist like Dr. Corrigan to teach us how to recognize these things."

"You're doing fine, Radek," Elizabeth said. He smiled at her, and then at Mike.

He carefully maneuvered the jumper between the tall buildings while the others looked for any signs of life. But everything was dirty and beginning to show decay: a broken window glinting in the sunlight, leaves mounded against a door. He found a suitable location and, keeping the jumper cloaked, turned to face his teammates. "Radek, Elizabeth. I think Ronon's right and that the Wraith have been here. By the look of things, it's been a few weeks, maybe months, but not that long. We'll be cautious, stay together. Radek will check for life signs."

They sat for a minute in the jumper as if waiting for a greeting, but that hope had vanished. They were cloaked, so Mike felt safe, except no one was safe while the Wraith were awake.

"All right. We should go," Elizabeth finally said. "Don't forget, in addition to the chemicals and equipment, we need spinning wheels, yarn, and any fabrics you see."

"This will take some time," Ronon warned. "No one to ask."

"You suggesting we split up?" Mike asked him.

"No," Elizabeth and Radek said simultaneously. "It will be slower, I know," Elizabeth said. "But I'm not comfortable here. I don't want us to split up."

"There is an evil feel to this city," Radek agreed, and Mike thought so, too.

Ronon shrugged.

"Then we'll go together," Mike said, and stood up, opening the hatch. Sunlight streamed in, and the air smelled fresh, not like a big city.

As they worked their way through the streets, Elizabeth began sketching a map of the buildings they entered, listing anything that looked interesting. In the third building, Radek said, "Oh! See, machines."

"So?" Ronon asked, echoing Mike's thoughts.

"So -- machines!" Radek spread his arms. "Many, to, ah, hone, to grind, to polish, to drill, ah, see, clamps, gauges, yes, gauges?"

"Gauges," Elizabeth repeated. They looked around. Mike had been looking for Wraith or looms, not a warehouse full of dust-covered equipment and row after row of metal shelving mounded with dangerous-looking tools.

"Their equivalent of a Home Depot," Mike murmured, but he started to get excited too. They could create this equipment in Atlantis, but how much easier to take it. "Are we sure there's nobody left?"

"You worry about stealing," Radek said, nodding.

Mike was. Even if everybody was dead, it felt wrong to take their possessions. Too much like pillaging after a war. Which he supposed it was, really, but not their war. They'd stumbled into it and now they had to fight it, but they hadn't hurt these people, whoever they were. It would be criminally stupid to let needed stuff go to waste when Atlantis needed so much.

He looked at Elizabeth. She sighed heavily and said, "We'll spend our time doing an inventory of these buildings. When we leave, we'll do another search for life. With no one left to ask, Ronon is right; this will take a long time. Longer than we planned for this mission."

"How common is this, Ronon? Shouldn't there be a dog or _something_ left alive?" Mike asked him.

Ronon didn't answer for nearly a minute. Mike had gotten used to Ronon's stillness; he thought it had to do as much with his Satedan training as with his years of running from the Wraith. He'd learned not to be impatient with Ronon, and waited just as quietly as the others, his arms crossed over his P90. "There were about three hundred left on my entire planet. Different hives have different needs." He shrugged. "No bodies left to draw carrion eaters."

Mike hadn't been thinking of domestic animals as carrion eaters, but he admitted that Ronon had a point. If the Wraith had taken every single person, they'd probably picked up some pets as well, and the others would have left for places where they could hunt. He still thought scavengers could find things, but what did he know. One of the biologists would. Maybe. As he was regularly reminded, this was another galaxy.

They spent the night camped out in Home Depot, mounding their sleeping bags into a comfortable den, setting up two lights that Sheppard called the Ancients' Coleman lanterns. The lights cast weird shadows from the massive equipment, but he thought Elizabeth looked beautiful in the mellow glow. When she pulled off her tee-shirt and stretched behind her back to unsnap her bra, Mike sat up and said, "Oh, yes, set them free!" and reached for her. She laughed and flung her bra aside; Radek caught it and hung it from the lever of one of the machines he'd been so excited to discover, and then turned back to Mike and Elizabeth. Mike embraced her, loving the feel of her soft breasts pressing into his chest. He nuzzled her throat and kissed the side of her neck, making her shiver. Radek undressed and pushed against Elizabeth's back, kissing Mike hello before turning his attention to Elizabeth.

Each time they came together, something unspoken happened, and they would unite their attentions on one person. Tonight, Mike knew that person would be Elizabeth. His dick was pressing against the crease between her thigh and the soft mound above her vulva. He held her tightly for a moment, and then released her, pushing her gently back into Radek's arms so she lay nearly flat, her head on Radek's strong, hairy thighs. Mike began to suck softly at a nipple, stroking the top of her other breast. He felt Ronon lie on top of him, his dick hard against Mike's ass. Then Ronon slipped his hand around Mike and gently pressed his palm against Elizabeth's vulva. She groaned.

Mike felt when she gave herself up to them, her body relaxing enough so Ronon could rock her gently as he moved his hand. Mike loved this part of their lovemaking; he didn't feel any need to rush, but wanted to spend as much time as he could kissing and sucking and stroking her. He loved her body; he loved all their bodies. Elizabeth was so small and so soft that sometimes he was afraid they'd hurt her, and her trust and love could bring tears to his eyes when he watched her orgasm beneath them. Radek was slight but sturdy and fierce and he went after what he wanted with an intensity Mike admired. Ronon's power excited Mike in a way he'd never expected; he'd never known that he could desire a man, and certainly not a man who could snap him in two. But Ronon was gentle with all of them, and evoked a tenderness in Mike that embarrassed him. When he was with Ronon, he felt all the years of his solitude and fear, and he wanted to soothe them away.

Tonight, he fucked Elizabeth while Radek held her and Ronon held him. He knew Ronon would fuck him later, and that excited him even more, making him tremble in Elizabeth's arms even as he kissed her, his face wet from eating her while Ronon had stroked her legs, sliding his fingers into her ass. When she'd cried out in orgasm, Mike needed to thrust into her so badly that he ached, and she clutched him wildly, her hair tousled, just as wild as he was when he came.

Then Ronon eased into him while he still lay half on top of Elizabeth. Mike was relaxed and lethargic, and let himself be pushed and pulled and pried open. Radek kissed Ronon over Mike, his hand pressing into the small of Mike's back, and then all their hands were on him. In the months they'd been doing this, he'd learned that he couldn't ejaculate again, but they could move him into a state of arousal so intense he no longer felt he was the same person he'd been. His skin became so sensitized to their touch that he burned and shivered and gasped, and Ronon's dick inside him felt swollen and hot as Mike pushed back against him. He felt as though he were floating above Elizabeth, captured by her arms draped over his shoulders, and her lips and tongue burned against his face and neck. Ronon's hands on his hips burned, Radek's hand burned, he was on fire with their touches and then he shuddered, crying out into Elizabeth's mouth.

Ronon kept thrusting into him, silent and intense. Mike thought he could feel the air around him tremble, the way his arms were trembling as he held himself above Elizabeth. Her face was glistening with sweat, and she gasped each time Ronon drove into Mike's body, pushing him against her. At last, Mike felt Ronon's head rest against his back, and he came. Mike shuddered at the knowledge that Ronon was coming deep in his ass, and Elizabeth pulled him tighter against her hot, damp body.

Eventually, he slid away to lie next to her, with Ronon behind him and Radek on the other side of her. He watched as Ronon sucked off Radek, while Elizabeth kissed Radek's face and stroked his chest. Mike felt a heat as mellow as the light rise through him, and he stirred himself to crawl behind Radek, pushing him onto one hip so he could kiss and lick his asshole while Ronon sucked. Radek came with a gasping cry, grasping for the others until he calmed.

Mike settled himself into the sleeping bags so he could watch Elizabeth breathe, Radek's arm lying across her, rising and falling with each of her slow breaths. Mike kissed Radek's fingers, tugged on one of Ronon's dreads, and slept.

In the morning, they continued inventorying what they found. They had scheduled three days away, but before noon of the second day, Ronon suddenly froze, then slowly straightened himself. Mike knew that Ronon was hearing something; he listened as hard as he could, and then -- there it was. A thin whining sound. "Darts," he whispered, and Radek nodded.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked; "why have they come?" but Ronon held up his hand for silence. They moved quietly to the entrance, though Ronon kept them behind him. The darts wailed overhead, and Mike gripped his P90 more firmly. He felt stretched thin by the tension; he wanted to fight these monsters, he wanted to protect Elizabeth and Radek, he wanted a larger victory than finding machining tools.

He flattened himself against the wall opposite Ronon so he could see a bit of sky. Nothing in sight, just the sound of the darts screaming through the atmosphere. Why? Elizabeth was right to ask that: why were they here? No one was left in this city, and he was sure the Wraith didn't need to pillage deserted cities.

When the high-pitched sound died away completely, he took a deep breath and met Ronon's eyes. "They wanted to be sure?" he asked.

Ronon shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe we missed somebody, and they came back for more food."

Mike shuddered. He loathed being considered food. Food that talked back, that screamed in pain, that left loving and grieving families behind. They'd quietly discussed that possibility among them, and he knew that he would kill all of his family before they suffered that fate, and then kill himself. No question. No monster would suck the life out of Elizabeth and Radek.

"Back to the jumper," he whispered, and they ran, keeping next to the stone walls of the factories and warehouses. He heard no more darts, saw no one moving in this empty place. He led the way and Ronon took their six. In his fear, his heart felt swollen with love for these people who had found him desirable and made him feel so treasured. Only when they were in the cloaked jumper with the hatch sealed did he begin to breathe comfortably.

"What do we do?" Radek asked, pushing up his glasses. His hair was wilder than usual after his silent race through the silent streets. "We need that equipment; they don't. Why do they come back?"

Ronon shook his head. "We'll spend the day in here," he said to Mike, but he rested a hand on Radek's shoulder. "Leave by night. Be sure they're not around the gate when we jump."

"And we come back," Radek insisted, covering Ronon's hand with both of his. Mike found the gesture oddly endearing. "We must."

"We will," he promised. "Just give them some time to get bored looking for --" He stopped abruptly.

Elizabeth slumped into the passenger's seat. "The only thing that makes sense is that the Wraith cannot locate enough . . . food. They must make finer and finer searches, so as not to miss any." She sighed. "We must take the time to do a more thorough investigation for human life. Take any we find back to Atlantis." She pushed her hair out of her eyes. "We can't leave them here to this."

Ronon said, "Elizabeth, we must leave."

"We'll leave tonight, but we will search the city and outlying areas one final time. We can do it cloaked. We need to be sure the Wraith aren't near the stargate; that will give us the opportunity to scan."

Mike nodded. He didn't want to leave anyone to this fate. But he looked at Ronon, and they nodded at each other. They wouldn't risk their teammates for the sake of strangers.

Mike triggered the HUD and settled back to watch the flickers indicating darts. Three flashed across the screen, circled, and then vanished. "Through the gate," he murmured.

When the sun started to set, turning the city's windows to gold and the thin clouds to pink, Mike took the jumper up. He was pretty sure no Wraith were left on the planet, but he wanted to be careful as he followed Elizabeth's orders. He rose slowly and kept low, watching the HUD while Radek used the scanners. An hour later, he was flying completely on instruments. "We should go," he said, and Ronon nodded.

"There is no one, Elizabeth," Radek concurred.

She stared at the HUD, and finally said, "Take us home, Mike."

He flew them toward the stargate, staying low enough to have to wind his way past the taller buildings in the city. Radek continued to scan, though Mike was certain everyone was gone. Then, suddenly, "The stargate's activating," he said. "I'm heading outside the city. We'll watch there."

Eerie, he thought, staring into the transparent display. The Wraith returned to this dead world like a dog to its vomit. He hovered a few yards above the ground, near the stone walls of the city. Two darts exited the gate and immediately began to spiral in what he recognized as a search pattern. What were they looking for? They'd taken every living thing from this place; what could they want?

"We should go," Ronon said abruptly.

"Why? We'll draw their attention. It's too dangerous."

"No, we should go. Elizabeth, we should go now. They're looking for us."

"They don't even know we're here," Mike began, but Elizabeth shook her head at him and they looked at Ronon.

"Explain," she said.

"Seen this before. They must have some kind of signal that's triggered when the gate is activated. They know we're here."

"Like the necklace John found?" Elizabeth asked, just as Mike said, "Then why didn't they come yesterday, when we first arrived?"

Ronon shrugged. "Shit," Mike muttered. "So they don't know who we are or where we are, and they can't be sure we're still here, right?" He took a deep breath. "Okay. When they're here," and he pointed at a point in the city furthest from the gate, "we'll open it. Elizabeth, the minute it's open, call Atlantis. Have them shut the iris as soon as we're through. Radek, there's no way they can tell where we dialed, right?"

"That is correct. At least," he added hesitantly, "I have never found a way."

"Great." All four of them stared at the display. One dart shot past them close enough that they could hear its whine, and Mike thought he could actually see it split the night sky. But their search pattern never took them far from the gate; he tucked that information away to discuss with Ronon and Sheppard later.

As suddenly as they'd arrived, the darts activated the gate and disappeared through it and they were alone again. Without a word, Mike brought the jumper above the skyline and soared to the gate while Radek dialed and Elizabeth tapped on her headset. "Atlantis, this is Elizabeth. We're coming home early. Prepare to close the iris as soon as we're through."

Within minutes, they were in the warm safety of Atlantis. They sat in the jumper, silent, while around them gathered their concerned friends and colleagues. "We have to go back," Radek said. "We need the equipment, the chemicals. We have to go back."

Mike knew he was right.

* * *

**And Let No Sentiments of Home Detain Us**

Leo Parrish missed his mom and dad. He missed his little sister and her two rug rats. He missed fishing in the pond behind his uncle's cabin in the Trinity Alps. He missed his mountain bike, he missed teaching, he missed the opportunity to publish his findings. He had a reputation for his work on the origins of maize, and had produced significant writings about genetic resources policy. If they were truly cut off from Earth, as Dr. Weir believed, then that was over. He needed to focus primarily on improving food production.

But missing people and places really was a sickness. He suffered from homesickness so much. He'd read up on it; he was a scientist and that's what he did: learned about something so he could understand it. He'd talked to Kate, but then she'd suffered from a homesickness so profound that she had returned in the only way possible and left them all behind.

Some days his stomach hurt; other days, his head. He would look across the Operations Center or mess hall, anywhere a lot of people had gathered, and think he saw his sister, or his best friend from college, or the old guy who used to pick through Leo's recycling. For a heartbeat he'd feel such joy rushing through him, like adrenaline, like alcohol, but then he would realize, no, they were light-years away and probably dead.

Leaning against a balcony railing, Leo stared across the water surrounding Atlantis. Light flashed against the waves, bright enough that he had to hold his hand up against it. Not a lot of maize growing in Atlantis, but his knowledge of plant genetics would, he believed, make life easier. Not right away, and it wouldn't keep the Wraith at bay, but if McKay and Zelenka couldn't do that, nothing Leo did would matter anyway.

He'd been excited to be selected to work in Atlantis. The opportunity to be a pioneer in exo-botany still excited him: not how plants adapt in extreme environments, but how they'd evolved in a different galaxy. He wasn't McKay, but he was ambitious, and this was exciting, important work. Or it had been. One more thing to say goodbye to.

But even if he didn't have the ability to find ZPMs or build invisible shields or shoot Wraiths, he could figure out how to improve and stabilize their food supplies. He could find and develop raw materiel, from paper to clothing to solvents and adhesives to medicines. He could enhance the quality life in Atlantis, and for others in the galaxy. He could start germplasm and gene banks, run field trials, and find new species. Maybe someday there really would be a University of Atlantis, with a department of agronomy; he'd talk about that with Radek, who'd been arranging seminars with other scientists in the galaxy.

He sighed. The sun was lower in the sky now, and a breeze had sprung up, chilling him. Time to go indoors, grab a bite to eat, and get back to work. In many ways, this was a dream job: there was so much to do, all of it exciting and necessary. He'd long ago given himself permission to enjoy the work he did. He wasn't being disloyal by not spending every moment missing them. They knew there had been a chance that he wouldn't come home. He had accepted that when he accepted the position here.

But he missed his mom and dad. He missed his sister, and his niece and nephew. He missed bananas and kettle corn and a good Australian shiraz. Leo wiped his eyes and turned his back on the setting sun. Maybe he should start a diary, just in case Earth found them again someday. He liked the idea of his family knowing that he'd been thinking of them, even if that family was the children of his niece and nephew in the distant future. He hoped they all still lived, because he liked the idea of them thinking about him so far away. Leo hoped it brought them comfort, the way thinking about them comforted him.

He stood on the balcony for a moment more, the sun warming his back and gilding the city before him. He had to force himself to remember that he, Leo Parrish, lived and worked in an alien city that was really a floating spaceship, and that he contributed to the continued existence of this beautiful city. That his entire body ached from his displacement and loss and fear of the future was the price he was paying for this opportunity. He needed to focus on why he had come, what his goals and hopes had been, and to recognize that he was succeeding.

But his heart still hurt, even here in the magic city, and he was so afraid of so many things: of the Wraith, of course, but of accidental death, of failing his colleagues and himself, and especially of never seeing home again. He wanted to see his mom's face again, to hear his dad's voice, to listen to his sister talk about her kids. He wanted to be a good son and brother and uncle; he wanted to belong to a family, to people with whom he shared in-jokes and secret glances.

But what he wanted, he could not have. The gate was closed, the ships came no more. Leo was alone in another galaxy. Neither the beauty of the city nor the excitement of his work could change that. He was far from home and family.

Leo had been a bookish child and still read poetry, though he rarely spoke about it. He wasn't sure what McKay would say if he ever found out. But he found poetry a growing comfort these days, as much as his botanical drawings. Thumbing through his oversized anthology, he'd found something by Herman Hesse that spoke to his tormented heart and eased his misery. He'd memorized it and, on days like today, when everything hurt, he'd recite the words like a mantra.

He took a deep breath and focused on the image of his parents in his mind, murmuring:

_ Serenely let us move to distant places_  
And let no sentiments of home detain us.  
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us  
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.  
If we accept a home of our own making,  
Familiar habit makes for indolence.  
We must prepare for parting and leave-taking  
Or else remain the slaves of permanence.  


Even the hour of our death may send  
Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,  
And life may summon us to newer races.  
So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

He smiled a little at himself; this was becoming a ritual, to find his way to some isolated part of Atlantis and imagine himself back home. He knew he was idealizing his family life; he could remember arguments and disappointments, and he knew that familiar habit did indeed make for indolence. But he gave himself permission to romanticize what was gone forever. What could it hurt? It soothed him and made him laugh at his foolishness.

"Even the hour of our death may send us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces," he said louder, nodding to himself. "Bid farewell without end." Good advice, he thought. Someday he might be able to take it.

He wiped his eyes, and walked back into Atlantis.

* * *

**When the World Is Coming Down on Me**

Karen said, "Yes, Dr. Weir?" Elizabeth was looking at her as if she'd never seen Karen before; Karen wondered if she was wearing her breakfast, or had put her blouse on backwards.

"You have a master's in psychology, don't you?"

"Yeah, yes. Why?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Come to my office, Karen. Let's talk for a while." Karen obediently followed Elizabeth to her office, apprehensive when she saw the door slide close behind them. "Have a seat, please." Elizabeth sat behind her desk in a pose Karen knew well: leaning back a little, her eyebrows raised.

"Is there anything wrong, Dr. Weir?"

"No, well, yes, of course there is, but beyond what we're all afraid of, no. It's just -- you know that Kate Heightmeyer filled an important need here in Atlantis."

"Yes, she did. She was a nice person, too."

"She was. She was." Karen thought Elizabeth looked very sad, sadder than she'd been in long time. She'd been worried about Elizabeth after Kate had killed herself. She'd always worked long hours, but Kate's death seemed to burden her as much as the loss of contact with Earth. Since Elizabeth had started going off-world as part of an SG team, she'd seemed much happier and healthier to Karen. She was glad for Elizabeth, and a little bit envious. She'd heard rumors about that team and, though she knew better than to believe rumors, she thought there was some truth behind this one.

"Karen, you've been an excellent administrative assistant. So what I'm going to ask you does not reflect negatively on your work. Rather the contrary." She sighed. "As you know, Carson and I have been trying to step into Kate's shoes." Karen immediately knew what Elizabeth was going to ask.

"No, no. I've never worked as a clinical psychologist or counselor. I only have a master's degree, and from years ago."

"But it's an advanced degree. You're a very bright woman, hard working, people like you -- and we need someone. Won't you consider it?"

Karen tried to imagine herself sitting in Kate's office, listening to people. People like Dr. Brown, who had killed herself, or Dr. Parrish, who was so homesick that he would sometimes cry in the mess hall. "I don't know," she said faintly. "What could I do to help anyone?"

"What you already do. Listen, be kind to them, alert Dr. Beckett if you think someone might harm himself."

Karen put her hand on her forehead; she was starting to get a headache. "Who would do the work I'm doing now?"

"We'll find someone. Maybe several people could help. But what we don't have is someone who can do Kate's work."

"And you think I can."

"Dr. Beckett and I have discussed this for weeks now. We've gone through the personnel files of everyone in Atlantis. You are the best suited for the job both in training and temperament."

"That's terrifically flattering, Dr. Weir, but I just. I don't know. I have to think about this. I take a lot of pride in my work, and I don't want to do a shitty job. Even when it's just typing and filing, I want to do my best. For something like this . . ."

"I understand. Take your time. Think about it. Talk to someone you trust. But don't take too long, Karen. We need someone now."

Karen stood up. "I -- I'm -- yes, of course. I'll give you an answer in a day or two. Do you mind if I go now? I need to think."

"Of course not." Elizabeth stood and shook Karen's hand. "Thank you for even considering this. We should talk more before you make a final decision, and meet with Dr. Beckett."

"Yes, I agree. But I need, I mean, I'd like to think now. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed."

Karen left, feeling rude and abrupt, but never for a minute had she thought she might be tapped to replace Kate. Not that anyone could replace her. Was she really the only person with a background in psychology? That didn't seem possible.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" Dr. McKay said. "Does Elizabeth have a moment? I need to talk to her."

"Uh, I'm not sure; I'm actually leaving. Wait, Dr. McKay?" He turned around, looking impatiently at her. "Can I have fifteen minutes of your time?"

"You? Why? Are you all right? Are you dating one of the scientists or something? Because I really can't help sort out anything; you're all adults. I'm sure you'll work it out."

"No, no, you don't understand. Not about that. I need your advice about something important to Atlantis."

"Oh. Huh. Well," he turned; from where they stood, Karen could see that Elizabeth had closed her office door again. "Yes, well. Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Just walking."

"Then walk me back to the labs. You can talk and walk, right?"

She didn't respond; she didn't know Dr. McKay very well, but well enough to know that he didn't require answers to most of his questions. Before he could get started again, she told him what Elizabeth had proposed.

He walked slower and slower as she explained, until in an empty corridor he came to a halt. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the smartest man in the galaxy," Karen said promptly.

He straightened up, lifting his chin. "Flattery will get you into trouble," he said with that crooked smile of his.

"Well, also because you're the most honest person in the galaxy."

"Ah, yes. That's true. So you want to know whether I think you should do this? Bear in mind that I think all psychology is voodoo, and though Kate was a beautiful woman with some spark of intelligence, she was also, in my opinion, as much of a quack as Carson Beckett."

Karen stared at him.

"I know, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but you asked me to be honest. Didn't you? Want me to be honest?" For a moment, he seemed unsure.

"Yes, please. Brutally honest."

"Brutal I can do." He crossed his arms, raising his shoulders; defensive, Karen thought. "Kate killed herself. That's indisputable. Yet she was in charge of _our_ mental health. That strikes me as paradoxical."

Karen nodded. "Yeah, we've -- my girlfriends -- we've talked about that." She felt guilty for saying anything, but Dr. McKay had a point. "It's disconcerting," she finally said.

Dr. McKay nodded. "I was seeing her," he said quietly. "The usual things we all suffer from here: insomnia, hyperactivity, and in my case, a mild case of hypertension. She recommended yoga." He rolled his eyes. "In my copious spare time between saving the galaxy, saving the city, and saving Colonel Sheppard, I can sit cross-legged and meditate."

Karen laughed at the image. "Yeah, well, maybe yoga wasn't a good idea. But you should be exercising more." She studied his middle.

"Hey. I'm perfectly within the weight range for my height and age. And everyone knows that the BMI is just one part of a person's profile. You really can't judge by looking, either." He glared at her.

"Sorry," she said, but something in his glare made her think he wasn't really offended.

"Back to your problem. Do you want to do this? Change jobs? You said you have a master's in psychology, right? But not in counseling? Have you ever counseled?"

"I answered a suicide hotline for a couple years back in college."

"Huh. What was that like?"

"Frankly? Tiresome. Most of the people called because they were lonely and wanted to talk. In all the times I answered the calls, there were only two or three people I thought might really be suicidal. Then I was scared. I wanted to help, but it was over a phone."

"People are scary," he said. "So unpredictable. Give me science every time."

"But I can't," she said. "That's the whole point. People aren't science." She didn't think that was grammatically correct, but Dr. McKay obviously understood her.

"I've noticed. Means my social skills are less than adequate, at least according to some. Although you don't seem to have a problem."

"No, that's why I asked you. I value honesty and directness."

"Hm." He studied her as carefully as Dr. Weir had; she forced herself not to fidget. "Do it," he said abruptly, dropping his arms and starting to walk toward the labs again. She hurried after him. "I think you should. I think you'll be good. Better than nothing, which is what we have now."

"What if -- I'm so scared, Dr. McKay, that someone else will, will kill himself. Herself."

That stopped him again, and he shyly touched her shoulder. "I know. I worry, too. People are such _mysteries_. You're right; they're not science. I don't understand them. I've never been diagnosed, but sometimes I wonder if I have a mild form of autism, you know? But that's not the point; the point is, you're right. Someone might try. Someone might succeed. Kate didn't know. Carson didn't know. Humans are basically unknowable, which is why I prefer not to know many.

"But that doesn't mean there isn't a need for someone to try. If you're willing to try, then I think you should."

Karen looked at him. He was the smartest man in the galaxy, she reminded herself. And she realized she did want to try. She'd volunteered for this expedition out of a need to be of service, and what greater service could she offer? She wasn't a scientist or a soldier; she was just an administrative assistant with a background in psychology, living in a very scary time and place. "Okay," she said at last. "I need to think about it some more, but right now? I think you're right. I should."

"Good, good!" he said, and patted her arm again. "Now, unless there's something else?"

"No, please, I know you're anxious to get back to work. Shall I schedule an appointment with Dr. Weir for you?"

"Yes, soon as possible," he shouted over his shoulder at her as he hurried away. She watched him hustle down the corridor, shaking her head at him.

A week later, she was Atlantis' new counselor. "Not psychologist," she told Dr. Weir, who agreed. She spent another week reading Kate's files, taking her own notes about who might be in danger, meeting with Drs. Beckett and Biro and Weir. Weir emailed a city-wide announcement about her new responsibilities, and Karen waited anxiously for someone to protest, either because they wanted the job or because they thought she was unfit for it. To her surprise, no one complained, and she had three people email her back asking for an appointment.

One of the three was Dr. McKay. He even approached her in the mess hall to get the time; that's when she knew that he was doing this for her and for the others, to encourage them to see her. She was touched by his gesture. For being a noisy curmudgeon, he was proving to be a nice guy.

Within the first three months, she learned that:

  

  * Carson missed his mother and golf  

  

  * Elizabeth had an ex at whom she was really angry  

  

  * Leo Parrish cried a lot  

  

  * Lt. Cadman was in love with Carson and despairing that he'd ever marry because he was such a mama's boy  

  

  * Dr. Biro slept only three or four hours each day, which is why she preferred the night shift in the infirmary  

  

  * Dr. McKay worried more about his staff than she ever would have believed  

  

  * Colonel Sheppard would never willingly come to see her  

  

  * Ronon came to see her because he wanted to understand what her new job was  

  

  * Teyla came to see her to be an example to the others, both Atlantians and Athosians
  



  
Karen worried most about Dr. Parrish. She thought a lot about his misery, about how easily and often he cried. She read Kate's notes, her textbooks, and talked to Dr. Beckett. At last, one day, she took his hands and said, "Look me in the eye, Leo. Please, look at me." He raised his sodden face to her, his eyes red, with tears clinging to his lashes, his nose shiny with snot. "I want to make a contract with you. A written one. And we'll give it to Dr. Weir for safekeeping. But I want you to promise me that you won't kill yourself. And in return, I promise always to be available for you. No matter what time or day or night, no matter what I'm doing or who I'm with, you can reach me. Will you agree to that? Will you promise me not to kill yourself?"

"Of course," he'd whispered. "I can't. I have to work and to teach."

Her heart unclenched in her chest, and she took a deep breath. "Say you promise."

"I promise, Karen. I promise."

She squeezed his hands. "Thank you," she whispered, near tears herself. She hadn't realized until just that moment how frightened she'd been. "Okay, let's write down this promise of ours."

"I think he'll keep his promise," Karen told Carson later that day, "but someone else should know. Just in case. I'm not trained for this, Carson, you know that. Not really. These are real people, with real problems. I feel like such a fraud."

"You're not, love. You've done a brilliant job, and we're all grateful to you."

She smiled ruefully. The first thing she'd learned when she started this was that people just wanted to talk. Giving them fifty minutes of attention was all many of them needed, so yes, she did have a good reputation. But there were a few she genuinely worried about, and Leo was one. She felt over her head and frightened. Sighing, she nodded. "Thank you," she murmured. She didn't tell Carson that if she'd really done a brilliant job, it was due to luck, not her training or experience.

Once a week, division heads met, and now she was included in their meeting. They'd treated her with respect when she'd been Elizabeth's administrative assistant, but she'd always felt left out of their camaraderie. She enjoyed listening to Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay spar, hiding her smile from them, and Dr. Beckett had always stopped for a word with her. She'd noticed the crush Major Lorne and Dr. Zelenka both had on Dr. Weir, and she thought that Teyla was the most beautiful woman in Atlantis.

Now, she was part of that team and, instead of waiting at her desk outside the conference room, she had her own place at the big table so she would have accurate information to counter any rumors her clients might bring to her. She did not report any specifics to the others, of course, but she did alert them to what she'd heard. "Is it true that a hive ship has been spotted?" she asked.

"Where did you hear that?" Dr. McKay demanded. "Why are people saying these things? It's ridiculous, a waste of time; really, Elizabeth --"

"No, Karen," Colonel Sheppard said. "No hive ships have been spotted."

"But there was the planet where Dr. Weir's team saw the Wraith. People are worried."

"See, if they'd just do their _work_," Dr. McKay said, his hands flying into the air.

"Settle down, Rodney," Colonel Sheppard said. "You've talked about it, too. Karen's right. People are worried. We should have foreseen this, Elizabeth."

Dr. Weir nodded. "Thank you, Karen. You'll continue to reassure your clients, I'm sure, but I will send out a city-wide email. All you department heads should be proactive; call a meeting and discuss this. Assure them that we will notify everyone if we do observe a hive ship in our airspace."

"When," Dr. McKay muttered. "When we observe one."

"Yes, you're right." Dr. Weir sighed. "It is only a matter of time. We all know that."

"I have another suggestion," Karen said. Her mouth was dry and she found it difficult to speak in front of all these people. She took a sip of water, and said, "Initially this might not sound like a way to counter these rumors and fears. But I've been thinking a lot about this, and I want to propose that we, uh, that Dr. Weir declare us independent."

There was a pause; Dr. Weir leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Independent from . . ."

"From Earth. From all the countries there."

"I'm not opposed to this idea," Dr. McKay said, "but why? What made you suggest that?"

Karen sat up straighter. "Several reasons. First, we're in a, we're in an us-against-them situation. I think we need to be a real us; like, our own country." She pointed at Dr. McKay. "You have a Canadian flag on your jacket, and Colonel Sheppard an American one. Dr. Zelenka is from the Czech Republic, and Dr. Beckett from Scotland. We have people from twenty-three countries in Atlantis, and military from almost as many. I think it would be more than a gesture towards unity if we said, you know what? I'm no longer an American. I'm an Atlantian. Because we are. I mean, that's how we identify ourselves. When you go off-world?"

The silence continued. Colonel Sheppard looked at his hands on the table; Major Lorne stared at her. Dr. Beckett gave her a little smile.

Dr. Weir said, "I've been thinking along the same lines. I can see a number of reasons we might declare ourselves independent. I like the idea of a free and independent Atlantis. But I haven't said anything because I can see many drawbacks as well. John? Do you have any thoughts about Karen's suggestion?"

He stared at his hands for a long time; Karen tried to breathe normally as she waited for his response. At last he said, "I've thought about it, too. Like Karen and Elizabeth, I can see benefits. As a gesture, it would draw us together. It would make us a little less confusing to our trading partners and allies."

"And to the students and teachers in the school," Dr. Zelenka added.

"To everyone in this galaxy," Dr. McKay said. "But I don't want to give up my Canadian citizenship."

"You don't have to," Elizabeth said. "First, I think this should be put to a vote. Second, if we decide to declare ourselves independent, there should be dual citizenship possible to those who wish."

"A vote is a good idea," Major Lorne said.

"Wait, there's more," Karen said. "I think the military should be different." The colonel and the major at the table stared at her. "I don't know enough about how the military works, or if they all work the same way no matter what country they're from. But I think the rules need to be changed. More flexible, and open. And I think if people want out of the military they should be able to train as scientists, if they want, or work as support, the way I do. I mean the way I did. And I think if people want in the Atlantis army or whatever, there should be training for that, too."

"I like this idea," Dr. McKay said. "I like this very much."

"You're not in the military; you don't get a say," Colonel Sheppard told him, frowning.

"Colonel, I'm not in the military but I've spent most of my life working with the US military complex and I assure you this is a wonderful idea. Especially here. There's no rotation out; we're not just stuck here, we _live_ here, permanently. Shouldn't you be able to retire? Or just quit? And we all know that the American military's rules are ridiculous."

"Rodney, we do _not_ all know that, and regardless of how many years you've spent tormenting your co-workers, _you_ don't know."

Dr. McKay raised his eyebrows in a way that Karen thought meant he was trying to look offended. "Elizabeth?" he said.

"We'll need to talk this through, obviously. Karen, would you write up a report for us? Include all your suggestions, your rationale, and the details you're imagining. The rest of you, please consider this. Karen's suggestion, to change the entire structure of Atlantis, might be exactly what we need."

"Well, it would certainly stop the gossip about non-existent hive ships," Dr. McKay said. "Give everybody something else to gossip about. Anyway, I think she's right; it would draw us together, give us a cultural identity that we're missing. The arguments would be amusing, too. See what you Americans have to say."

"Rodney," Elizabeth said quellingly. "Thank you, Karen. Excellent innovative thinking. Now, I believe we should review the mission reports for the last week and Dr. Zelenka has some news about the school."

"Wait, Elizabeth, excuse me," Carson said, "but I want to add that I've been thinking along these same lines. There are powerful arguments for declaring independence. We need to discuss this."

John said, "Look, I get the idea that this could improve morale, but I think it has the same chance of upsetting things. It's like saying we'll never be in contact with Earth again. And for the military -- well, I'm not wild about it."

"Why not?" Rodney asked. "Think about it. You would basically be forming your own army. Make up your own rules. There are people from literally all over the world -- not just the US and Canada, but England, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Australia, China, Germany -- who'm I forgetting?"

"The Czech Republic," Radek said sourly.

"Yes, yes, we can't forget you," Rodney said.

Karen felt a bit overwhelmed at the vehemence with which her idea was being discussed. "Look, everyone. I think Dr. Weir is right and we should shelve this for now. I'll write up my suggestions and we can discuss them later."

"I'll help," Dr. Beckett volunteered.

"As will I," Dr. Weir said. "And I have another suggestion that I'm sure Colonel Sheppard won't appreciate." John raised an eyebrow. "I think we should stop using titles. No more doctor or colonel or major. Just first names."

"Oh, next you'll be suggesting we all take the same surname," Rodney said, sitting forward. "You can be _Elizabeth Atlantis_, or _Elizabeth Earth-that-was_, or something horrible like that."

"You just don't want to give up your title, do you, Doctor McKay?" John teased him.

"Oh, like you're willing to jettison that hard-won Lieutenant Colonel you wear so proudly?"

John looked away, and Dr. McKay's expressive face revealed his embarrassment. "Uh," he said.

"That's enough, both of you," Dr. Weir said firmly. "We would all be giving up something, but I also think we'd be gaining something, something greater."

"A sense of unity," Karen said.

"Of family," Dr. Beckett said.

"All the soft sciences think this is a good idea," Dr. McKay scoffed.

"Medicine and genetics are hardly soft sciences, Rodney," Dr. Beckett said acerbically.

"We'll include this in our report," Dr. Weir said. "And now, the mission reports, please. John, will you begin?"

* * *

**The Gift to Be Free**

Ronon didn't expect that he'd mind if Earth disappeared. It was in another galaxy, after all, and had nothing to do with him. He'd never been, never planned on going, didn't know anyone there.

But it turned out he did mind. Whatever had happened had changed the people in Atlantis. Halling had said to consider their people culled; Ronon thought it was true. The Atlantians even reacted the way people did after a culling: grief, and then anger. He wondered what would happen next. Sometimes, if there'd been too many cullings too recently, a sadness soaked into the people. They'd give up: stop working in the fields, stop making babies, just stop living.

Ronon didn't think the Atlantians would give up. Not all of them, at least. Some were pretty bad, crying in the hallways, hiding in their rooms. He'd heard McKay shouting at someone he'd found vomiting from taking some kind of drug; an overdose, he'd told Elizabeth afterwards.

But people like McKay, like Zelenka, and even like that sour-mouthed Kavanagh weren't going to give up. McKay just got louder, Zelenka's hair stood up even more, and Kavanagh looked more sour, but they kept working. It made them more of what they'd been, a kind of concentrated version of themselves. The way the loss of Sateda had concentrated him. No one could have survived that without changing. Then the Wraith had turned him into a runner.

He always whited out a bit when he thought about that. The rage in him had to be carefully tamped down; just because Carson had extracted the tracker didn't mean he'd extracted Ronon's anger. As far as he knew, he was the only person who'd ever survived that experience. He still couldn't sleep through the night, but at least he had hopes of learning how to one day.

He'd thrown in with these people because of Sheppard. He looked across the Operations Center into the conference room where the department heads were meeting. They met every day now, ever since their planet had failed to respond to their hail. Sheppard used to complain about meetings, but he seemed to derive a kind of comfort from these. Ronon saw he was sitting, as always, next to McKay. Halling had started coming to Atlantis once a week, and he was there today, on the other side of Sheppard. He could see Elizabeth talking.

The meetings continued no matter who was off-world. Now that Elizabeth was part of an off-world team, she and Sheppard had agreed to try to never be off-world at the same time, so they took turns being in charge. Ronon hated meetings, so he hardly ever went, only when specifically asked. He wasn't a department head anyway, and his team's debriefings were more than enough for him. But he grudgingly admitted that some meetings were necessary right now. Everywhere he went, people were talking. Not that they hadn't talked before; the culture of the people from Earth seemed to value talking more than he was used to. But Elizabeth and Sheppard shared real information that Ronon then heard repeated in the hallway.

It had become a point of honor to him to challenge any rumor he heard. He knew he was intimidating, so he worked not to be, though he didn't think that was successful. But his efforts were, he thought, paying off. People came to him when they heard things. "I was in the mess hall," someone might say to him, not meeting his eyes, "and I heard someone say that it was plague."

He never demanded to know who started the rumors, but because he was on both Sheppard's first contact and Elizabeth's follow-up teams, he had credibility. "Naw," he'd say. "Beckett says if it had been plague, at least a few would have lived and would have contacted us. He says something about natural immunity."

Comforted, the scientist or soldier would nod as if they'd known all along, and then get back to work. A few times, Ronon had been hugged or even kissed for his effort. He liked that he could help in this way while in Atlantis. Normally his time in the city was spent waiting for a chance to go off-world. He didn't have a village to report back to and take care of, the way Teyla did; he didn't have a hundred scientists to supervise and yell at, the way McKay did; he didn't have any responsibilities except first to Sheppard and now to Elizabeth. They were his leaders.

But he'd do what he could to help. He'd already been through this in his own way. Losing everybody. He never forgot the moment he'd learned that a few hundred Satedans had survived the culling. Only a few more than the total population of Atlantis. He knew what these people were feeling.

Their friends and families were dead, just as his were. Their world was destroyed, just as his was. Maybe the Wraith had found it, maybe some other enemy, maybe Carson was wrong and it really was plague. Didn't matter, Ronon thought. Nothing mattered now but getting through each day and then each night and then the next day.

He sat in the mess hall drinking the Athosian tea brewed and left in big containers. He liked the warm liquid and the spicy flavor it left in his mouth. Zelenka sat nearby, looking half asleep, trying to explain what he'd found in a diagnostic he'd been working on for one of the puddlejumpers. Two engineers sat with him, taking notes, trying to follow his explanation. Lorne watched, sipping the same tea that Ronon was drinking. He looked tired, too, and sad. Zelenka kept yawning, rubbing his eyes, making his glasses sit crookedly. Ronon glanced at Lorne, who set down his mug and nodded. They rose and went to Zelenka. "Radek," Ronon said.

"Sorry," Lorne told the engineers sitting with Radek.

"No, no; take him to bed. He's been up for over twenty-four hours," one of them said. Ronon thought that he used to be military but had switched to the sciences.

"Yeah, he's a sleepy-head," the other said, some girl with her hair in long braids. "Go to sleep, Radek," she said.

"Mm-hm," Zelenka said. Ronon and Lorne each took an arm and gently pulled him to his feet. "Goodnight. Oh, tell Rodney that the diagnostics are attached to an email I sent him."

"I think he'll figure that out all by himself," the girl said; she had a pretty smile, Ronon thought, with dimples and a crooked incisor.

"Oh, yes, Rodney knows everything," Zelenka said, swaying against Ronon.

"Maybe not everything," Ronon said as he and Lorne guided Zelenka out of the mess hall and to the nearest transporter. "But enough to figure that out."

"Ha!" Zelenka said. He was almost sleepwalking, letting Ronon and Lorne steer him while he kept his eyes closed. "Rodney's been up more hours than I have. He can't even find the coffee machine."

"Dr. McKay is Colonel Sheppard's problem," Lorne said, and winked at Ronon. He was a little nonplussed at the wink, but he understood what Lorne meant. McKay and Sheppard's relationship had been clear from the moment he'd first seen them together.

"Yeah, and you're ours," Ronon said.

Zelenka turned his face up to Ronon and smiled. "I am not so big a problem as Rodney, no?"

"No," Ronon and Lorne said in unison.

"I will tell Rodney this some day," Zelenka said. "Not soon, though. Not till he invents new ZPM."

"Why's he say 'zed' and you say 'zee'?" Ronon asked, not for the first time.

"From the Greek _zeta_," Zelenka said, also not for the first time, but Ronon just raised his eyebrows.

"Just an Earth thing," Lorne told him as they stepped inside the transporter.

Ronon believed that. Even though there probably wasn't an Earth anymore, there were still Earth things in Atlantis. Just like Sateda was in Atlantis now, too, because he was here. It gave the universe a kind of continuity that Ronon found comforting.

Zelenka leaned more heavily against Ronon, who wrapped his arms around him. He looked at Lorne, who shook his head but never let go of Zelenka. "He's cute," Lorne said.

_Cute_ was another word that had a lot of meanings, but Ronon thought he understood. Endearing. Zelenka was endearing. He brought out the strangest feelings in Ronon, and having him on Ronon's team only strengthened those feelings. Ronon was sure that Lorne felt the same thing about Zelenka that he did. "Yeah," he agreed, and shifted Zelenka so he could see into his face. He looked sound asleep, so Ronon reached down, slid his hands under Zelenka's knees, and lifted him. He and Lorne had put Zelenka to bed before. He worked too hard, but with McKay leading the science team, everyone worked too hard. They weren't going to make Earth suddenly respond, or the _Daedalus_ suddenly appear, but they weren't going to let the Wraith capture this city again.

At first, his respect for their determination was why Ronon had stayed in Atlantis. But now, looking down at Zelenka's pale face squashed against his chest, he felt that strange, powerful feeling again. It was a scary feeling for Ronon. Lorne was right; Zelenka was cute, but he was more than that. They both were more than that, to Ronon.

After all these months of watching these people work, of traveling through the gate to other words in search of food and supplies and maybe even a ZPM, he'd learned to trust Zelenka and Lorne. He liked it. They'd never be Sheppard to him, but then, there'd never been a Sheppard before in his life. But they were closer to him than any members of his squad had ever been. They were his family now.

Ronon didn't have the words to express this; he knew it. So he just nodded and said, "Yeah." Zelenka was _cute_, and all that that meant.

Zelenka woke up enough to climb into his bed. Ronon stood looking down at him while Lorne straightened the sheets. "Thank you," Zelenka said, stretching and then rolling onto his side. Ronon knew Zelenka liked to sleep on his side; when they were off-world, he would often wake to find Zelenka's head resting on his arm. "Go to bed yourselves."

Lorne laughed. "It's the middle of the day, Radek. You sleep till tomorrow morning, hear? No going back to the lab before breakfast." But Zelenka was already asleep. "Come on," Lorne said to Ronon.

When they'd left Zelenka's quarters, Ronon said, "I know you're not supposed to do this." He knew he didn't have to specify what _this_ was.

"Yeah, so?"

"Why?"

Lorne didn't look at Ronon; he just kept walking. After a while he said, "You hear that Elizabeth and the others are thinking about saying we're independent? So even if somebody from Earth ever shows up, we'll be Atlantians, not Americans or British or whatever."

Ronon didn't really understand that. Just because Sateda had been destroyed didn't mean he wasn't Satedan. He shrugged.

"That would mean changing the military, too. So I wouldn't be US Air Force; I'd be Atlantian Air Force." They walked together, not heading anywhere special, just walking, Ronon knew. Lorne gestured toward a branching corridor, and they turned down it. "And if it's a new military, there are new rules. In the new military, this wouldn't matter. Nobody would care, and even if they did, there wouldn't be anything they could do about it. Except beat me up, I suppose."

"They'd have to get through me," Ronon said.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty formidable myself. But my point is, this is all in flux. Technically, yeah, what we do is against military regulations. But first of all, I don't give a fuck. I'm not giving up you guys. Second, we're how many miles from Earth? Which we can't even reach, don't even know if it's still there.

"So my feeling is fuck 'em. Fuck the rules, fuck the regulations, fuck anybody who gives a shit." He finally looked up at Ronon, who tried not to smile at the ferocity in Lorne's face. "Besides," he added. "It's all mixed up now anyway. There are so many regs being violated that I can't keep track anymore."

Ronon nodded. He'd seen that after cullings; entire cultures collapsed and reconstructed in new ways, bringing in people and traditions from elsewhere, cobbling together a new society. It hurt, but sometimes people were stronger because of it. Sometimes they gave up and died, but he thought the Atlantians would be stronger and fight harder. "Huh," he said thoughtfully.

Lorne grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alcove, and Ronon knew to lean toward him and kiss him. Lorne was, as Elizabeth sometimes said, _hot_, another word that meant a lot of things. Lorne was hot in temperature, warmer than Elizabeth or Radek, and radiated heat. He was hot in energy, zealous and focused on his tasks. And he was hot as in sexy; Elizabeth said that, and Ronon agreed. He pushed Lorne against the wall and slowly ground his cock against Lorne's hip; Lorne groaned into Ronon's mouth.

"God, see, never give this up, I'll never fucking give this up," Lorne whispered, kissing and sucking on Ronon's neck, grasping Ronon firmly around his waist so he could move with him.

_Frottage_ was another word Ronon had learned from Elizabeth, and it felt so fucking good to rub against Lorne's hot body. He opened Lorne's trousers and wrapped his hand around his cock, hot and sweaty and sexy, just like Lorne. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," Lorne gasped, so Ronon went to his knees and sucked his dick into his mouth, working it vigorously, the way he knew Lorne liked, almost to pain. "Yeah, oh, fuck, yeah, God," Lorne gasped, and came, hot and thick. Ronon liked it, how each of his men tasted different, Lorne hotter and saltier than Radek.

Lorne rested his hands on Ronon's shoulders, slumped over, kissing the top of Ronon's head. "Let me do you," he said.

"'s okay," Ronon said. "Tonight. I want you to fuck me."

"Oh God, don't say things like that. How'm I supposed to work now?"

Ronon grinned up at him. "Something to look forward to."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Run. Shower. Eat. Watch Radek till you come." He stood up and watched as Lorne straightened his clothes. "Bring Elizabeth if she can get away. We should be together."

"You ever do this before? More than one person at a time?"

"Not steady like this, no, but sometimes. Not like this, though."

"No, me, neither. Nothing's ever been like this." He kissed Ronon swiftly. "Tonight."

When Lorne showed up at Radek's, Elizabeth was with him. Radek woke and took a shower while Lorne and Elizabeth talked about their day and all the meetings; Ronon listened carefully. When Radek returned, drying his hair, Ronon handed him his glasses and dried his back, kissing the back of his neck. They curled around each other on Radek's bed.

"Before we, ah, I have some news," Elizabeth said, running her fingers through Radek's damp hair. "We're supposed to go back to that planet tomorrow, to see if the Wraith have returned."

"I want to see if there's some mechanism triggered when the stargate is dialed," Zelenka said.

"And we need that equipment," Lorne said. "We'll be bringing two puddle jumpers; Lieutenant Crown will pilot."

"He's not a very good pilot," Zelenka said.

"He's good enough," Lorne said. "With the Marines, we can bring some of the machining equipment we found back to Atlantis, and still search for chemicals the chemistry labs need."

Ronon kissed Lorne. "That's an effective way to shut him up," Elizabeth said, smiling. "Should I try it in a meeting?"

"Dr. McKay's the one who needs shutting up, and you better not kiss him," Lorne said, lightly tapping Ronon's cheek.

"Colonel Sheppard would be very unhappy," Zelenka agreed.

"Is that true?" Elizabeth asked. "I've always assumed, but I don't feel I can ask."

"No idea," Lorne said. "I'm not going to ask. Not even going to guess."

"Think so," Ronon said, and then kissed Elizabeth. "Don't care." He pushed her down on the bed next to Zelenka; behind him, Lorne began to stroke and knead his thighs and butt. He sighed and relaxed, safe, for the moment, in Atlantis.

The next day they were not safe, not in the culled city. Two puddle jumpers flew through the gate, cloaked, of course. Lieutenant Crown flew the second one, with Captain Parker and three others Ronon didn't know well. Ronon sat next to Lorne; they had decided to set the jumpers down perpendicular to the stargate, cloaked and waiting to see if darts followed them through.

"I don't like this," Zelenka whispered.

"Wraith can't hear you," Ronon told him in his normal voice; he enjoyed the look on Zelenka's face.

"I know, yes, but it makes me nervous. We are bait."

"Shh," Lorne said, reaching back to pat Zelenka's knee. "This is easy. Just hurry up and wait. Wanna play Hearts?"

Ronon knew he meant a card game; he'd been trying to learn the card games the Atlantians played, but the cards all looked alike to him, just little spots on the paper. A few had interesting pictures, but nothing like the cards he was used to. Maybe one day they'd find a pack and he'd show his team how to play Cutaway, or maybe Flagstaff.

"No. Chess? I brought the little set."

"Hey, yeah. Let's." Lorne swung around and watched while Zelenka set up the pieces.

Ronon liked chess, and he liked watching it, so he moved to the back, next to Elizabeth. She was working on her laptop, but he put his arm around her and she leaned into him. He could hear her humming. "What are you singing?" he asked.

"Hm? Was I? I'm sorry."

"No. Nice."

"It's a song the chorus is working on, the chorus I'm in."

"It's pretty." He stared at Elizabeth; she looked pleased at his words. "Sing a little."

"No, I --"

"Yes, sing, Elizabeth," Zelenka said, looking up from the chessboard. "I do not know this song."

"Well, just a bit." She took a deep breath, and sang:

_"'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,_  
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,  
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,  
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight."

She smiled at them.

Lorne said, "I know that song. My grandma used to sing it to me."

Ronon thought about a world that could sing about a valley of love and delight. He tried not to think too often of his home, so lost to him, but he remembered being a little boy, lying in bed, listening to his mother hum as she straightened his and his brother's room. She had sung songs about escaping the Wraith, about a dream of flying away from them into a world of safety and peace.

_"In the valley of love and delight_," he sang softly. Not so different, maybe, than he'd thought. Longing for something that could never be.

"It _is_ a gift to find ourselves where we ought to be," Zelenka said. He looked sad. Ronon knew that he, like Ronon, like all the Atlantians, had lost his entire world. He wrapped his hands around Zelenka's smaller ones and kissed them, staring into his eyes. Elizabeth put her hand on Zelenka's back.

"You have a beautiful voice," Elizabeth said. "Come to chorus with me. We need more baritones."

"Yes, too many tenors," Zelenka said.

Then Captain Parker's voice came over the radio. "Team One, this is Team Two." Ronon thought the code names were stupid, but for some reason, the Earth people liked to use them. Lorne responded, "Team One here."

"We're in position. How long a wait do you figure on?"

"First time, it took them thirty-five hours to come through," Lorne said, grinning at Ronon.

"Okay, Major," Parker said; he didn't sound surprised. Maybe he just wanted to know they were there. It was hard to remember they were invisible. Ronon had once tried to get McKay to explain how they could be invisible on the outside but not the inside, but his explanation was so lengthy and convoluted that Ronon had decided he didn't really know. They just were.

They didn't have to wait thirty-five hours this time; Ronon was playing his second game of chess with Zelenka when the gate activated. They watched as two darts shot into the atmosphere and, as before, circled the city in a search pattern. No one spoke; it was as if they believed the Wraith could hear them inside the jumpers. Ronon remembered hiding from them, jumping from planet to planet, never knowing what he'd find on the other side. Sometimes he had been tempted to jump into a black hole to finally escape their torments. He was glad now that he had not.

Lorne shifted in his seat, so Ronon reached over and rested a hand on his knee. He'd noticed that Lorne, more than any of them, needed to be touched, as if he'd gone without even longer than Ronon had. He wondered if the military that Lorne served had caused that. They had strange and stupid rules. The girl who had replaced Dr. Heightmeyer was trying to persuade the Atlantians to give up some of their rules. Ronon thought she had a good idea. Their world was gone. You couldn't live on a destroyed world; you had to jump through the gate and accept whatever was on the other side. The Atlantians, he thought, needed to make that jump.

The darts didn't stay long this time, and as soon as they vanished through the gate, Lorne contacted the other jumper. They flew into the city, back to the warehouse that Lorne called Home Depot, and began breaking down and loading equipment. When they entered the building, Ronon could see that no one had been there since his team had left. The city was truly deserted. The entire world was probably deserted, as deserted as his own. As deserted as Sheppard thought his Earth was.

When the jumpers were as full as Lorne would let them be packed, they returned to the gate. There, Zelenka and Crown studied what the Atlantians called the dialing mechanism. Ronon leaned over the top of it, looking down at Zelenka, who was sitting in the grass staring up into the arrangement of crystals. Crown squatted next to him, touching things to make them light up when told to and handing him tools. Ronon realized that Zelenka was giving Crown a tutorial on how the mechanism worked.

"This," Zelenka said at last, tapping at something Ronon couldn't see. "This must be it."

"Do we remove it?" Crown asked.

Zelenka sighed. "Not without more study."

"Might trigger a bomb," Ronon pointed out.

Crown looked unnerved, but leaned closer to it. "Can you figure it out, Doc?" he asked. "Cadman's a bomb expert; we could bring her out."

"Let us see whether there is a bomb," Zelenka said, a bit sharply, and gave Ronon a look. "And you bring us lunch," he added.

"Work with McKay too much," Ronon told him, but he returned to their jumper to see about a meal.

"It's so lovely," Elizabeth said, stretching. "Let's have a picnic by the DHD." Lorne spread a shiny blanket, the kind they called a space blanket, on the thick grass while Ronon and two others brought out their packs. "Dr. Jackson once told me about why the grass is so thick near the stargate," she said. "Something about people bringing in seeds from other worlds."

They shared with each other the pre-packaged meals they took off-world. Ronon liked them; he'd spent seven years eating berries and raw fish. Sitting in the sun with his family, eating chocolate and peanut butter, drinking tea from Zelenka's thermos, was the greatest luxury he could imagine.

"So, bomb?" he asked Zelenka, who smacked his knee, making the Marines grin.

"No bomb, I don't think," Zelenka said. "But it is a clever mechanism. I will bring it back to study, plus they will not know when we come back for other supplies."

"Bring it back?" Lorne said sharply. "What if it's tracking device? They'll find us."

"Could we use it?" Elizabeth asked. "Can it be retrofitted so we can track them?"

"We do not know if it tracks anything, but I think not. Why track? Sits in DHD and signals when the gate is opened. We take back so Rodney and I can understand."

Ronon nodded; Zelenka and McKay, he believed, would figure this out. They would turn it into a tool against the Wraith. He leaned over and kissed Radek loudly, making him laugh and push at Ronon. The Marines laughed, too, and he saw Lorne studying them carefully, but Ronon thought their laughter was genuine.

"So we'll treat this entire world as a big give-away?" Lorne asked Elizabeth when the laughter had died away.

"Unless we find someone alive, I don't see why not. We need these things."

"I took routers and drills," Parker said. "They're made to work on wood, and there's nothing like that I know of in Atlantis. We could build things, like cabinets and chairs."

"Beds," Ronon said. "Really big beds."

There was a pause, and then Parker said, "That would be nice. A big bed. I made my brother's bed for him, when he got married. A big four poster, with a full tester."

"What's a tester?" Ronon asked.

"A canopy over the bed. To keep in the warmth, make it more private." He smiled in memory. "Took me five months, but they loved it. That was my wedding present to them."

"A wonderful gift," Elizabeth said. "I always wanted a four-poster with a canopy. They seem so romantic."

"You can make that?" Zelenka asked. Parker nodded. "Right now? With the equipment we have?"

"Well, yeah. Just need the right wood, of course. But that should be easy to get on the mainland. I've noticed the trees. They're not walnut or cherry, but there are some good hardwoods."

Ronon looked at Zelenka, and they looked at Elizabeth, who smiled. "Maybe you have a commission, Lieutenant."

He looked at the four of them, sitting together on the silver blanket, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It would be an honor."

"We have no currency in Atlantis," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "Did you use money in Sateda?"

"Yeah, course," Ronon said. "Not after the Wraith, though. And between worlds we bartered."

"A barter economy." She looked into the distance. "We should work out a system of barter. Surely there's something Lieutenant Parker would like in exchange?"

"Well, you get me a supply of the wood, ma'am, and I'll spend all my free time working with it."

"Teach others, too," Zelenka said. He straightened his back, sitting away from the DHD to look at Parker. "Teach in my school."

Parker smiled at him. "Yeah, I could teach woodworking."

"Okay, here," Zelenka said suddenly, and held up a small rectangular device. "No bomb."

"You should have warned us," Ronon said sternly. "So we could move Elizabeth away."

"Don't be silly, Ronon. I trust Radek. If he says no bomb, then there's no bomb."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Radek said. "But Ronon, you are right. Next time."

"Jesus, I hope there's not a next time," Lorne said. "Hey, who brought the cookies? Elizabeth, was that you?"

"I did," Ronon said. "They're good."

"No shit. Here," Lorne held out the plastic container Jenny Imoto in the mess hall had packed. Ronon shoved a cookie in his mouth. They were good.

"Can we go home?" Elizabeth asked. "Will that thing tell the Wraith where we are?" Lorne looked at Zelenka.

"No, I am sure not," Zelenka said through his cookie. "Rodney will be delighted with his new toy. I do not think it is active, but we can shield it in the lab."

"We should get in the jumpers now," Ronon said. "In case there's a signal when it's removed." They packed up quickly, while Zelenka closed up the DHD. The grass was a bit trampled, but Ronon didn't think it was too bad. They sat in their cloaked jumpers for a long time, waiting to see if the gate activated, but it didn't.

"No bomb, no signal," Zelenka said, studying the little mechanism. "Maybe we figure something out about the Wraith from this."

"At the very least, we have an entire world to explore for supplies," Elizabeth said. "I wish we could trade with the inhabitants, but at least we can remember them."

"We should thank them," Ronon said. Elizabeth looked at him, and slowly nodded, then looked outside. He watched the culled world beneath them as Lorne took the jumper up, higher than necessary, just for a look. The city spread out for miles, but already the forest was starting to encroach on it. Ronon had run through many such cities in his years. There was world and there was city, and world always won.

He wondered about Atlantis as Zelenka dialed the gate and the wormhole opened for them. Was it world? It was unlike any city he had ever been to. When he walked with Sheppard through the halls, he felt as though the city was alive, as alive as a tree or a mouse or McKay's whale, a thrumming presence that could not be eaten by the world because it was the world.

And then they were flying into the gate room, and setting down in the jumper bay, and then Ronon was home.

Most mornings, Ronon and Lorne ran together before breakfast. One or two times a week, Sheppard would join them. They didn't talk much during their run, which suited Ronon. He observed Lorne and Sheppard not talking to each other. They had a different relationship with each other than he had with either of them, of course, but Sheppard was Lorne's commanding officer -- their term -- and it was significantly different than Ronon's relationship with his commanders had been. They were friendlier, and he knew that Sheppard never beat any of his men. The drills Ronon had experienced in the Satedan military were violent: he'd been shouted at, slapped, locked up, even beaten publicly. His body bore the scars of his training as well as his service to Sateda.

Lorne had tried to explain the structure of his military, but Specialist Dex didn't know what to make of it. All he had learned in his time here was that there were good men and women in Atlantis, people who would die to save the city. He respected most of them, and liked a few of them. And some of them he loved.

The problem was Sheppard. Had he been Kell, he would have had Ronon on his knees, and Ronon would have been happy. But Sheppard hadn't done that; it wasn't allowed. Lorne said that Sheppard had never beaten or fucked him, either. When the negotiating team had been formed, Ronon had gone with them to help Lorne protect Elizabeth and Zelenka, and to ensure what Elizabeth called _continuity_ for their trading partners. But then they became more than a team, more than anything Ronon had ever known before.

So he watched Sheppard, wanting to protect Lorne. But he also wanted Sheppard's approval. He needed that approval; the knowledge that he was violating some bizarre rule made his skin itch. If Lorne weren't involved, he would confess to Sheppard, accept his punishment, but Lorne _was_ involved.

So he ran a few yards ahead of the two from the other galaxy, listening to the thud of their boots through the long corridors of the city. Mile after mile they ran, until one of them, usually Sheppard, gasped out, "Okay." Ronon would slow and turn, watching them. Lorne would smile at him, his hair flopping in his face, sticking to his forehead, and Ronon would have to jerk his hand back, remembering that he couldn't touch him in front of Sheppard. Sheppard would be staring at the floor anyway, hands on knees, breathing deeply. Lorne would wink, Ronon would nod, and then Sheppard would look up.

"All right, ladies," Sheppard said this morning. Ronon understood that was simultaneously a joke and an insult, but he thought it was stupid. "Major, let's review the duty roster at oh-nine-hundred, my office."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said. He and Ronon watched as Sheppard turned and slowly jogged back the way they'd come. Only when he'd turned the corner, and the sound of his boots had faded, would Lorne come to Ronon. Sometimes Lorne let Ronon blow him right there in the corridor, but usually they'd only kiss. Ronon liked kissing Lorne; he was bigger than Elizabeth or Radek, and could push Ronon around a bit, and he'd bite at Ronon's ears and neck, suck on his collarbone.

"Fuck," Lorne whispered, so Ronon shoved his hand down Lorne's trousers; he didn't wear them as loose as Sheppard did, but Ronon could slide his fingers between his cheeks, circling his asshole while kissing Lorne, and Lorne made nasty huffing noises. Lorne didn't like getting fucked as much as Ronon did, except when he did, and Ronon could tell he really wanted it this morning so he pushed his finger inside.

Sometimes he wished Sheppard would sneak back and watch them; he needed Sheppard to know. If that Karen girl had her way, they'd be able to do this and nobody would care. Ronon was sure that Sheppard and McKay had their own thing going, so why would Sheppard care what the hell Lorne was doing?

Lorne pushed against Ronon, rubbing his cock against Ronon's thigh and grabbing Ronon's cock, squeezing and jerking on it. "Fuck," he groaned.

"This way," Ronon said, seizing Lorne by the wrist and pulling him into one of the empty rooms that lined this deserted corridor.

"I got nothing," Lorne said, unbuckling his trousers.

"Got spit," Ronon said, kissing him at the same time as he pushed down Lorne's trousers and pants.

"You old romantic," Lorne said, resting his head against Ronon's shoulder. "You gonna do me right here?"

Ronon didn't say anything more, just gently pushed at Lorne until they were lying on the floor, legs tangled. They were sweaty from the run, but the floors of Atlantis were always warm and forgiving for Lorne. He rolled Lorne over onto his stomach, then pulled him up onto his knees, so his butt was the right height for Ronon to push his face in and lick. Lorne made more of the noises that Ronon really liked, and started to jerk himself off. Ronon spit on his hand and rubbed it on his cock, then pushed into Lorne, who cried out his name again and again, the best sound in the world, and they fucked right there on the floor in a deserted corner of the city.

"Christ," Lorne said at last, collapsing onto their clothes. Ronon lay half on top of him, kissing the back of his neck. "You're gonna kill me one of these days." Ronon slapped his ass, hard, and left his hand there, rubbing gently; he liked the feel of Lorne's skin under his hands.

"You got stupid rules," he said, and Lorne sighed.

"I know," he said. He turned over so he could look at Ronon, putting his hand on Ronon's face. "Don't stop," he added, so Ronon kept stroking him.

When Ronon was training on Sateda, he'd learned that there were four steps to countering an enemy: command and coordination; public support; coordination among intelligence services; and foreign collaboration. He thought about those steps while watching Lorne: his pale face, the dark floppy hair, his compact muscular body. "We need to do something," he murmured, but Lorne was dozing. Something to save themselves. Not just his family, but this city, and the Athosians on the mainland, the remaining Satedans, their trading partners. Zelenka had told him that there were as many as twenty-one hive ships in this quadrant of the galaxy. He shook his head. Twenty-one, full of Wraiths, hungry and hunting.

He lay down, pulling Lorne so he rested on Ronon's arm. Beneath him, Atlantis was warm, as warm as Lorne was in his arms. The city felt alive to him at times like this, another Atlantian he wanted to save from the Wraith. They needed to do something.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

**Shake Your Hair Out and Come and Dance With Me**

Teyla wandered through the farmlands that had developed in the years since they'd moved to this new world. She missed Athos terribly, but she was also pragmatic. The Wraith had taken much, and would take even more. For the moment, they had beautiful grains heavy and ready to harvest, and so much fruit hanging from trees that they couldn't collect it all.

A good year. Finally, a good year. She and Halling had decided that this was the year to hold their first harvest festival since the move. There was much to celebrate, too. In addition to the agricultural harvest, three new babies had been born, and there was another marriage to be celebrated. There had been much preparation, but at last she felt she could permit herself to wander and enjoy the fresh air and abundance.

John and Rodney were somewhere nearby; she could hear their voices, though not their words. They were, as usual, teasing each other. Occasionally she could hear shouts of laughter. Ronon was here, too, but with his other team, the negotiators. He split his time between the two teams, but emotionally he had bonded with Elizabeth, Radek, and Mike. They were very close, which made her heart glad because all of them had been terribly alone, but she was also deeply envious.

The years since the time of loss, when the Atlantians had lost contact with their home world, had been difficult. Two of the Atlantians had killed themselves, and a third had tried but failed. Teyla hadn't known Kate Heightmeyer well at all, but she'd been friendly with Katie Brown. Rodney had been shocked by Katie's death; even though their liaison had been short-lived, they'd remained friends.

The Atlantian who had tried to kill himself had arrived on the _Daedalus_, the run just before they'd lost contact. He had tried to shoot himself, just as Katie had. Teyla hadn't known him at all; he hadn't been here long enough for her to work with him. Lieutenant Coughlin now lived here on the mainland, with a family that had a child unable to care for herself. He had been terribly damaged, but seemed happy now, and he was a help to the family, with the little girl his special charge.

The first year had been very bad. Halling had told Elizabeth to consider Earth as culled. Teyla knew many worlds that had been devastated. Even when some of the population lived, they never recovered. They simply stopped living. Mothers who'd lost their children, children who'd lost their parents -- they would simply lie down and die.

She wondered if that was what had happened on Earth, or whether their culling had been purely metaphorical. There were many ways to die in the Pegasus Galaxy; she was sure the Atlantians' galaxy held just as many.

"Happy day, Teyla!" Mara waved to her, and Teyla waved back.

"Happy day, Mara! Where is your husband?"

"I have no husband yet!" she called.

Teyla smiled at her. She could see, beyond Mara, her husband-to-be watching them. "Thank the Ancestors," she murmured. Each joining was a time to rejoice, and there had been many joinings in the last six months. Lieutenant Miller -- Andy -- was the fourth Atlantian to marry an Athosian since the time of loss. Elizabeth and Halling would preside over the joining; John would stand for Andy, and Asha, Mara's sister, would stand for Mara.

When Dr. Heightmeyer had taken her own life, the entire city had seemed to halt, a moment of terrible calm in the storm of grief. Elizabeth especially had been distressed by that loss. Teyla knew these tragedies were cumulative, and for Elizabeth, Dr. Heightmeyer's death had been too much too soon. Months had passed before she had seen Elizabeth recover; becoming part of an off-world team had helped heal her injured heart.

Teyla heard more laughter and looked up, smiling. Elizabeth and her team were gathering for the joining. Radek held her hand, and Ronon was leaning over saying something to Mike Lorne. "Teyla!" Elizabeth called, and pulled Radek along. "You look beautiful."

"As do you," she said, embracing her friend. "All of you are beautiful."

"Do you hear that, Ronon? We are beautiful," Radek said. All of them wore beads in their hair; the Satedan way, Ronon said, to symbolize their relationship. For Mara and Andy's joining, they had dressed in Athosian formal robes, and something sparkled in Elizabeth's hair. Teyla leaned closer to examine it.

"Is it too much?" Elizabeth asked, frowning. "Mike traded for it with the Manarian. On Earth, I would call it a tiara. The Manarians called it a _regare_."

"It is lovely, Elizabeth."

"I told you so," Mike said, and Radek nodded.

"It is not too much," he said, lightly touching Elizabeth's hair. "Just little sparkles, like you sparkle."

"Radek is correct," Teyla agreed. "Now, it is almost time."

"Where are John and Rodney?"

"I have been hearing their voices for some time. I believe they are preparing something for Andy and Mara."

"Something trouble," Radek said, but he was smiling.

"I heard that, and no, it is not trouble," Rodney said, stumbling into the clearing. "Aren't we going to be late?"

"Where's Major Tom?" Mike asked, looking behind him.

"Already there, so let's hurry." Rodney rubbed his hands together. "Well? Come on, let's not keep the happy couple waiting." He shooed the others toward where the ceremony would be held.

"Major Tom to Ground Control," Ronon began to sing.

"I cannot believe you've perverted your team with David Bowie," Rodney said to Mike. "You know John isn't at all like Major Tom."

"Hey, he listens to Johnny Cash," Mike said, but he was grinning.

Teyla shook her head. Elizabeth's team was so different from her own: their humor, the way they bonded, the way they took care of each other. She was a little sad that the closest relationships Ronon had developed since coming to Atlantis were with them and not his original team, of which he was still a member, but she was happy for him, too. He had been alone for so long.

"Yes, that's unfortunate as well, but David Bowie? Ziggy Stardust?"

"I like Philip Glass," Elizabeth said.

"And we've agreed never to discuss that, haven't we."

Elizabeth took Rodney's arm. "You are so easy to tease," she said.

His mouth turned down, but Teyla knew he was flattered. "Oh, please," he said, escorting her to the edge the ring where Andy and Mara waited with John. "I'm just too much a gentleman to say what I _really_ think."

John said, "Rodney. It's a wedding; let's be on our best behavior." Rodney gave John a look, one Teyla knew very well, but he subsided.

"You look wonderful," Rodney said to Mara while shaking Andy's hand in the Atlantian way. "Congratulations to both of you."

"Thank you, Rodney," Mara said, smiling up at Andy.

"Ah, there you are," Halling said, walking toward them. He towered over tiny Mara; even Ronon looked short next to Halling.

"Hello, Halling," Elizabeth said, and they embraced, touching their foreheads against each other's. When they straightened, Elizabeth said, "Is it time?"

Halling nodded, looking around at the crowd gathering. "It is good," he said to her, "that our people join. Together we are stronger."

Elizabeth looked at Mara and Andy. "We are," she said softly, and Teyla knew she was thinking of their losses.

Halling clapped his hands twice, and the talking around them quieted. Teyla stepped back, bumping into Rodney. The others moved away, until only Mara and Andy, with Asha and John just behind them, stood in front of Halling and Elizabeth. "Shit," Rodney murmured, and wiped his eyes. "I'm an idiot at weddings," he whispered, something Teyla already knew.

She took another step back and watched Ronon, Mike Lorne, and Radek standing together. She had heard rumors about their relationship from the Atlantians, who cared a great deal about such things, and even from her own people, who were curious and entertained. But the Atlantians had had rules which, though occasionally flouted, had been respected in name, so she'd followed suit and refrained from investigating. Under different circumstances, she would have turned to Elizabeth for guidance, but that was not possible.

Now, though their rules had changed, their behavior had very little. Ingrained caution, she often thought, watching the four of them move through their alien dance of friendship and love. She smiled to herself.

Elizabeth and Halling raised their hands and the guests fell silent, except for Rodney, who loudly blew his nose. Halling took one of Elizabeth's hands and lifted it higher. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome."

Teyla had a sudden flash, almost dizzying in its intensity, of Halling stepping aside, and she and Elizabeth performing this ceremony for other couples, and then Jinto, and then the offspring of these unions assuming the responsibility. But never did she see herself joining. She put her hand to her wet face; Rodney surreptitiously passed her a cloth and she dabbed at her eyes, as embarrassed as she was overwhelmed.

She looked at John standing beside Andy, that half-smile playing around his mouth. He was darker now than when she'd first met him; he spent more time on the mainland, as did all the inhabitants of Atlantis, working in the fields and orchards and gardens. His hair was streaked with grey, and with red from the sun. As did most of the Atlantians present, he wore Athosian robes, the same pale blue that Rodney wore. He was, she admitted to herself, a very handsome man, someone she would be proud to stand up with as Mara was standing with Andy.

But she knew now that her dreams were those of a girl. John was -- different. Atlantian and Athosian were similar, similar enough to bear children, as other couples had proven, but she and John were too different. The sharp teasing he engaged in, the odd gestures and phrases, were all culturally alien, but she knew that he was alien in other ways. She knew that he was not for her.

She straightened her back. She'd known this for a long time. Watching how Andy looked at Mara, how tenderly he held her hand, how he trembled as he repeated Halling's words, Teyla knew that what she and John felt for each other had never reached that magnitude. They were good friends, and she believed they would be life-long friends, but never more than that.

She wiped her eyes again. Rodney took her arm, not looking at her, but she saw when she looked up at him that his own face was red from the sun and his emotions. He was a good man, a good friend to her. He was staring intently at Andy and Mara, sniffing a bit. Teyla watched them, too, as John gently pushed Andy toward Mara, then stepped back, releasing him. Then Mara's sister laughingly pushed her into Andy, who caught her up and swung her round in a full circle.

The drums began and Andy began to dance with Mara; Teyla knew he had been training with the other men for some weeks now. He'd let his fair hair grow a bit -- non-regulation, she'd heard John call it, but that was a joke -- and it glinted in the sunlight as he moved, turning Mara while keeping her in the center of his dance. The center of his life, she thought, and pressed the cloth over her mouth. Never would she so dance; she knew this.

Halling began to dance with Elizabeth, and then Ronon with Radek, looming over him and moving him around Mike, who spun in place, laughing, and then John turned to Rodney, eyebrows raised. "I suck at this," Rodney muttered to her, but obediently followed him back into the circle and began stepping in the old pattern while John danced around him. Teyla backed away, weaving through the dancing couples that were filling the ring. The drums grew louder until she could feel them in her chest. She passed other couples: Chana and Elos, Jamie and Keitha. "Dance with us," Timmo called to her, holding out his hand as he danced with Summer. She shook her head; she was dancing alone this time, around the couples and triples, around the Atlantians and Athosians and mixes; she danced the joining dance alone.

She helped a little boy pour himself a drink of juice, and refilled platters with fresh baked _hesha_, licking her thumb as she stood back. Hands settled on her shoulders. "Teyla," Halling said, kissing the top of her head. "Dance with me?"

"I should help --" she started, but the others shooed her away, Diamond and Jenny from Atlantis with Tati and Leyra from the settlement. "Go on, girl," Diamond said, crossing her arms. "We all need dancing on a day like this."

Halling led her back into the ring filled with laughing dancers; he stood next to her, rather than opposite, so she knew he wanted to do the traditional Athosian wedding dance. The music was bit too fast for it, but she followed his lead, and soon others were, too, including the Atlantians. The drums slowed, and some of the older men began to chant. "Night, she said," Halling's deep voice welled up. "I was bound, I am not bound, and night, she said." Teyla danced carefully, watching her feet as she had not since she was a little girl learning the steps.

"Whoa," Rodney said, tripping to avoid stepping on her foot. Halling pulled her aside, laughing. "Sorry, sorry, Teyla, just, okay, right, right, left, right, I got it." She watched Rodney's feet; he did get it. In fact, he was rather good at it, to her surprise.

Halling agreed. "I see you have been practicing," he called to Rodney. Teyla finally lifted her head to look at her friends' faces.

Rodney beamed at them, sweat shining on his face. He used perhaps more vertical motion than was traditional, but his rhythm was perfect. At his side, John danced, arms above his head, laughing. Rodney pointed at him. "He gets me off balance," he explained, shouting above the music but never missing a step.

Teyla took Rodney's hand and for a while they danced, side by side, their feet moving in the old pattern, weaving among the others. Halling continued to sing and dance next to her, and on the other side of Rodney, John. She watched them, pushing into each other, laughing, their faces glowing in the setting sun. The drums began to speed up again and the dance changed into the free-form type the Atlantians liked. Couples formed, wrapping their arms around each other, swinging side to side. She looked at Halling and shook her head. He couldn't be her partner in this. For the second time that evening, she slipped through the crowd, this time away from the tents, toward the forest. The music and the noise of the crowd fell away, and she sighed.

John did indeed get Rodney off balance, she thought, stepping lightly through the trees, working her way back to the settlement. She was sweaty and wanted to wash, then sleep away this evening. She had done her duty. Andy and Mara were joined, and she knew a baby would be with them soon. A new generation, children who had always known the city of Atlantis and the people who had woken her. She stood at the edge of the forest and looked at the encampment. Most people were still celebrating; the sun was hovering above the horizon, its rich golden light falling through the trees. This was a beautiful world they'd run to, and she was happy to be here, breathing the sweet air, sweaty from dancing with her friends and family, happy to be part of the world, even if it meant she would always be a bit apart.

The next day, she returned with her team to Atlantis. "Back to work," John had said, rubbing his neck. Rodney just grunted. Ronon had flown back with his other team, so it was just the three of them in the jumper. "What a party."

"Shut up," Rodney moaned.

"How you doing, Teyla?" John asked her.

"I did not partake of all the refreshments," she said, knowing she sounded prim and disapproving.

"God, I wish I hadn't," Rodney said. "I'm gonna lie down in the back."

"Rodney, we're ten minutes away," John said, reaching to stop Rodney. "Do you really feel that bad?" he asked in a softer voice.

"I've been worse," Rodney admitted, patting John's arm. "But I don't want to puke on the console."

"Go, go," John said. Teyla followed, bringing him a bottle of water.

"Thank you, Teyla," Rodney said as he lay down. He sipped at the water, then put his arms over his eyes. "Too much excitement, too much booze."

"We will be back soon. You will feel better there."

He didn't answer, and she returned to the cockpit. "It was a good party," John said quietly. "We should do that more often."

"Halling believes we should celebrate the harvest in the old way. He will present the idea at the next meeting."

"More parties," John said. "I like it." After a moment, he said, "Did you used to party much on Athos? Have celebrations like that?"

"Oh, yes," Teyla said, smiling in memory. "Life is so short. There is much to celebrate. I have noticed that your people do not seem to celebrate as often as we do. As we did."

"And as you'll do again," John said. "No, not much. Drunken punchups at a wedding, that's about all."

"Graduations," Rodney called from the back of the jumper.

"Okay, I'll give you that. But not much else. What did you celebrate?"

Teyla considered. "Weddings, as you know. When I was little, the turning of the seasons: seeding, growing, sowing, sleeping. Babies on their third day in the world. A girl's first menses, a woman's last. A boy's voice changing. First times of all kinds."

"Boy, you weren't kidding when you said there was much to celebrate. Do you think you'll go back to that? To all those ceremonies?"

"I think we should." In fact, Teyla hadn't thought of it until Halling had proposed the harvest festival, but talking to John had reminded her of the pleasure of marking those moments. "I think _you_ should."

John set the jumper down as gently as a mother putting her baby to bed. He turned to look at her, glancing at Rodney in the back. "I think we should, too," he finally said.

"Yeah," Rodney said, sitting up, looking blearily at them. Teyla smiled at his expression. "What about first times for sex? Did you celebrate that?"

Teyla laughed. She had noticed that the topic of sex was endlessly fascinating to the people from the Milky Way. "There are many kinds of celebrations, Rodney. Not all are public. I do think some first times are worthy of a private celebration, though."

His gaze sharpened, and she was reminded again how very quick he was. "Hm," was all he said, and then John made the jumper hatch open. "Paracetamol," he said. "Coffee. Oh God, I wish we still had real coffee."

John rose and helped Rodney down the steps. "You get wired enough on that phony stuff."

They held the department meeting late that afternoon, and Elizabeth had pitchers of water and juice on the table. "I'm dancing on the border of a headache," she told them, "so I imagine you feel the same."

"Not much work is getting done in the labs today, I'm sorry to report," Rodney said, pouring himself a glass of juice. "Note that I'm not complaining about it."

"Yes, you are," John said. "If you weren't, you wouldn't have mentioned it."

"No work today, but much work this week," Radek interrupted them. He set a small silvery oval on the conference table. Teyla leaned forward for a better look. "This is the device we take from the culled planet. All of us have looked at it. It's tied to the frequency of the stargate when it's opened."

Rodney said, "The material of the gate is a superconductor in that it provides almost no electrical resistance, and it can sustain a very high magnetic field. It's also sonorous -- it conducts sound well, and at long distances. What we're looking at here," he nudged the device, "is triggered by the vibration of the gate. When the event horizon has formed, it sends out a signal through the Lorentzian traversable wormhole." He poked it again. "That's all this does."

"We have found through trial-and-error that when the signal is triggered, the Wraith send darts and scouts," Radek continued. "With Laura, Carson, and Mike's assistance, we have developed weapons that kill the pilots. As of this moment, we have brought down one hundred percent of all darts and scouts. One hundred percent."

Elizabeth looked around the table, catching Teyla's eye. "I believe we must use this new technology to kill more Wraith than one dart pilot at a time. With the device, we can continue to call the darts to us. None return. Eventually, they will send a Hive ship."

"We've discussed this before, Elizabeth," John said, sitting up and shaking his head. "What you're suggesting -- we don't have a way to deliver the toxin into the Hive ship. Yes, I know you know _where_ to deliver it, but how?"

"We have a number of darts and scout ships ready to return to active status," she said, looking evenly at him.

"Oh, no," Rodney said. "No. We are not doing that again. I have watched John fly off on enough suicide missions. Radek, you really are a moron for suggesting this."

"Rodney," Radek and John said simultaneously. "This is my decision," John said.

"No, John, it isn't," Elizabeth said. "Rodney's right. You've done enough. But there are others. You don't need the ATA gene to use Wraith technology. Any of our pilots are capable of learning to fly them."

"And then what?" Rodney said. "Fly them to the Hive ship? You remember the size of those mothers? And that there are _twenty-one_ of them just in our quadrant of the galaxy? Don't you think they talk to each other and after the first time or two might catch on?"

"Yes, that's possible," Elizabeth said. "In fact, it's what we hope will happen. Because, Rodney," she said speaking over his attempt to interrupt, "we're aware of the dangers. But the dangers are just as great if not greater while we sit and wait to be culled. If we can destroy one or perhaps two of their Hive ships, they might leave. Why stay and fight when they have the rest of the galaxy to hunt in?"

"So you would have these Wraith hunt elsewhere," Teyla said, trying not to sound judgmental.

"Yes, we would," Elizabeth said, nodding. "If we could kill them all, I would order it. But we can't. It simply isn't possible, and in part because some of the ships are so far away. But we can destroy at least one, and one Hive ship gone is literally thousands of Wraith gone forever."

"Genocide," Rodney said.

After a silence, Elizabeth said, "I don't believe it will come to that. I believe that, if -- no, when -- we inflict enough harm on them, the others will leave this quadrant alone."

"So you think it's worth the risk," Rodney said, still looking at John.

"I know it is," Elizabeth answered. "And John, Rodney's right. You do not fly this mission."

"Then who? You know I'm the best pilot."

"We all know that," Lorne said, speaking for the first time. "That's part of the reason you can't go. We need you here training others how to fly the darts. You're the only one who can do that."

"You also have the strongest manifestation of the ATA gene," Radek said. "We need you here in Atlantis for that."

John opened his mouth, but Teyla said, "They are correct. You are needed here, John. You are too valuable for this assignment."

"Our proposal is that we temporarily cease attracting the Wraith, to give John the opportunity to train others how to fly the darts and scout ships we've shot down. When we have a team of pilots ready, we will begin again. Eventually, when we see the Hive ship, we'll be able to send out one or two of the darts to deliver the toxin."

"It's a suicide run," Rodney said. "You can't seriously ask people to do this."

"But I am," Elizabeth said. "I'm sorry to put any of our people at risk. I value their lives highly. But I also value the survival of Atlantis, and of the Athosians on the mainland. We need time, Rodney. Time to live and grow, to have children and let them grow up. We need time for Radek's school to train others how to fight the Wraith. And right now, we simply don't have that time."

Rodney looked miserable, his mouth turned down. John said, "It's a good argument, buddy."

"The only thing good about it is you're grounded."

"Will you do this, Colonel? Will you train me how to fly one of those things?" Lorne asked.

The room was quiet for a long time. John and Rodney stared at each other, until John slowly nodded. "Course I will. Be fun. And it'll give us time to decide if this is a crappy plan or not."

Teyla had remained silent, but she did not believe this was a crappy plan. Quite the contrary. "I wish to learn to fly one," she said quietly. John looked at her, shock in his eyes, his mouth slightly open.

"Teyla, no," Rodney said, but she looked only at John.

"No ATA gene needed, Elizabeth said," she reminded him. "And I owe it to my people."

At last John said, "Shit." He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'll teach you. I'll teach anyone who wants."

"Thank you, John," Elizabeth said. "I'll send out a city-wide email asking for volunteers. Teyla, do you think any other Athosians might be interested in assisting us?"

"I shall inquire," she said.

"Thank you. Now. Radek tells me there is a problem on the south pier with water supply for the gardens and animals. Radek?"

"Yes, Minnie has been working with Alex on this problem. At this point, we are not sure whether there is a leak or a blockage, but the fresh water is not getting through. I am suggesting we build a mini-desalination plant just off the south pier for the gardens; then the reason for the problem will not be so urgent."

"And if it's flooding the sub-basements?" Rodney asked. "Just let it go?"

"No, of course not, Rodney," Radek said. "But it is more important that we continue watering the gardens than finding the problem. Once the first problem is solved, we can work on the second. It is prioritization."

"I heard that silent _something you're not good at_," Rodney snapped at him.

"Then you are hearing things," Radek told him.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth warned. "Radek, do what you need to to ensure the gardens are watered. But Rodney's right; we need to solve the problem soon."

He clicked his keyboard. "I have sent everyone the specs for both the work-around and the repair," he said. Teyla tried to pay attention, but she was imagining flying a Wraith ship, one of the small darts. She had watched John and Lorne fly puddlejumpers for years, and had seen John fly one of the darts, but never had she imagined she would fly.

Maybe this was why she was alone, she thought, studying the others. Maybe this was her purpose.

When the meeting ending, she caught John before he rose. "When will you teach me?" she asked.

His eyebrows rose suddenly, and Rodney paused to listen. "We'll see what Radek says, but as soon as you want." He stared at her. "You're awfully anxious."

"I believe this is a wonderful opportunity. What Elizabeth suggests makes sense to me. The Wraith prefer easy hunting grounds; you have seen this yourself in your time among us. Making this part of the galaxy more dangerous to them will, I believe, force them elsewhere."

"You don't think they'll come en masse?" Rodney interrupted. "Because that's my guess. Why give up when they can so easily subdue us?"

"Can they?" she asked him. "They can kill us, but that would be a waste. What you must remember, Rodney, is that we are _food_. Like the wild deer hunted in the forest. Do not the hunters share information about where the deer are densest and easiest to obtain?"

"I've never understood why they don't try to domesticate us," Carson said. "Why are we wild deer rather than cattle?"

"Christ, don't even _think_ that," John said.

"I have heard of such things," Teyla said. "But only as legends of evil times. Perhaps Halling would remember more."

"We should ask," Elizabeth said. "Teyla, would you?"

"Yes, of course. And you should ask Ronon as well."

For an awkward moment, they stood; each of them was, Teyla felt sure, contemplating the Wraith. Then Rodney said, "Despite feeling like hell, I do have work. Radek." He patted John's arm; John caught his hand for a moment, then instantly released it, so Rodney could leave, Radek at his heels.

"Lorne, show me the status reports of these darts and scouts," John said, standing. "I need to get caught up."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said. The others left as well, until only Elizabeth and Teyla remained.

"Teyla, about you piloting one of these ships --"

"Elizabeth, this is something I was meant to do." She hesitated. "I have always envied John."

Elizabeth smiled sadly at her. "We all do. He is our fair-haired boy. Despite his difficult past, he is undeniably special."

Teyla nodded. John was and always had been special to her.

She said goodbye to Elizabeth and went for a walk to the south pier, where the gardens were. To walk in the fresh air of Atlantis, the wind tossing her hair, the sunlight glinting off the myriad windows of the city, yet to hear the soft animal sounds of the chickens and goats, smell their earthy presence, to pluck berries from low-growing plants -- these pleasures firmed her resolve to do everything she could to keep this city safe. She looked up into the clear sky of this planet. How vulnerable they were, on this world and every other.

Then Minnie called to her, and she hurried over to help carry buckets of water to the gardens, until Radek and his team could pump fresh water to them again.

* * *

**A Marginal Issue**

Laura said, "Honey, you've got to talk to Weir. Everybody's going nuts about the darts they saw on that planet where they got all those machines. Just because the Hive ship isn't appearing on our scans doesn't mean it's not out there. In fact, it has to be -- where are those darts coming from?"

Carson sighed. "Laura, we talk about the Wraith at every single meeting I'm in. If there was anything, you know I'd tell you."

She put her hands on her hips; why wasn't he listening? "I'm sure you've talked it to death. That's not what this is about. It's about finding the Hive ships and _doing something_ about them." She stared at him, barely breathing. "Carson," she whispered. "We must act."

He shook his head. "We've talked about this before, Laura. What can we do?" He took her hand, stroking it with his thumb. Finally he said, "I'm afraid."

"We all are," she said softly, bending down to kiss him. "I'm afraid of the Wraith, and I'm afraid to fight the Wraith. But we have to try." Surely, she thought, he understood her well enough by now that he knew she wouldn't give up on this. "We have to try. Please, sweetheart. Please talk to Weir for me."

"All right," he said at last. "But _we_ will talk with her." He stood up abruptly; she took his arm. "Let's go right now."

Weir was in her office, staring into her laptop. "Carson, Captain Cadman."

"Just Laura, please, ma'am. I asked Carson to talk to you, but maybe it's better if I do."

"Sit, Laura, Carson."

"It's about those darts you saw. There has to be a Hive ship nearby. And even if there isn't, there will be. You know that; we all know that."

"What are you suggesting? That I'm hiding the truth about a Hive ship?"

"No, I'm suggesting you're hiding from this knowledge."

"Laura!"

"Carson, honey, you're right: we're all afraid. We have almost no resources, we have no hope of returning to Earth, and we know for a fact the Wraith are coming. Sooner or later, they're coming." Carson's mouth drew down; she knew he disapproved of talk about this, but Weir nodded.

"What do you suggest, Laura?"

She sat up and leaned forward. She'd spent a lot of time imagining how to persuade Weir. Taking a deep breath, she said, "We are, in essence, an insurgency."

Weir shook her head. "We are not in rebellion against a government."

"Yes, yes, we are. Think about it. You're a political scientist; you know this better than I do. Compare us to, oh, the Nagas, on the border between India and Burma."

"I know who the Nagas are," Weir said with some asperity.

"Well, excuse me, Elizabeth, but I don't," Carson said. "Tell me, Laura."

"They were incorporated into India, but they didn't want to be. They fought for years. The entire Indian army, which is _massive_, couldn't defeat this small group of pretty backward hill people. India finally capitulated."

"Sounds like the Americans in Viet Nam," Carson said, looking at Weir.

"Not just that," Laura continued. "The Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka. Or Cyprus; you worked in Cyprus, didn't you?"

Weir nodded. "What is your point?"

"It is entirely possible for a small group to bring down a much, much larger one. The Cypriots were outnumbered by the British something like a hundred to one, maybe more. We need to do something, to have a purpose greater than hiding and making do. This entire galaxy is under threat. My point is that it's time to stop the Wraith."

Weir started to speak, then dropped her head and rubbed the back of her neck. Laura sympathized; her muscles tensed up at the thought of the Wraith, too. At last Weir said, "Come to the next department head meeting. Bring specific examples of what you think we should do, and how."

Laura stood up, Carson following more slowly, looking confused. "You tell me when and I'll be there," she promised. "Thank you." She left, Carson following slowly, saying goodbye to Weir first.

"Are you serious?" he whispered to her once they were in the corridor walking back to his office. "This is your idea of how to fight the Wraith? Laura, love --"

"Not just fight them," she said firmly. "Defeat them. We can do this, Carson. History is on our side."

"I know a little bit about what happened in Cyprus," Carson said. "That was a political settlement, based on the economics of the situation. England simply couldn't afford the money and men it was losing there. It was the same in Viet Nam."

"Exactly," she said, stopping right there in the corridor to look at him. "Ideally, the scientists will come up with something to kill all the Wraith. But if they can't, we make the war so costly they'll leave."

"And go where? To feed on what? Cows? My retrovirus --" he began, but she interrupted him.

"No. I'm sorry, I think you're a genius, but no. It's not what we need. We don't need to turn them into people; we need to kill them. Listen to me, Carson." She put her hands on his arms and stared into his eyes. "Soldiers kill. It's what we do. We're at war. If we don't kill them, they'll kill us. I'm not going to sit by and watch that happen, Carson."

"Why didn't you tell me? Whatever are you thinking?"

She stared at him, not certain how to respond. "Because I love you," she finally said. "Because I knew you wouldn't want me to do this."

He nodded, looking very unhappy. Laura knew that Carson hated disagreeing with anyone, but especially with her. He kissed her, and pulled her into an embrace, silent in her arms. She knew that he believed his retrovirus would do a great service to the Wraith, that it would free them from a terrible affliction. She couldn't find it in her heart to tell him that she thought he was wrong. "I should get back to work," he said at last. She kissed him again, deeply, passionately, feeling him relax. "Go," he whispered into her ear. "Before I can't stop."

She smiled at him and turned, almost running away from the labs and toward their quarters. She was anxious to finalize the report and recommendation for Weir.

Weir must have read it the minute it hit her inbox, Laura decided, because she heard back from her less than an hour after emailing the report to her. At Weir's suggestion, they met on the south pier, where the chicken- and cow-like creatures were housed. Alex Glezakos, the carpenter, was there, pounding away on what Laura thought was a flexible fence, and Minnie, the tall Australian hydrologist, was weeding the vegetable garden, but no one else. Laura and Weir stayed away from them, sitting on the enormous steps that led down to the sea. The sound of the waves slapping at the steps reminded Laura of leaves taken in San Diego. It would also, Laura knew, mask their words.

"Have you discussed this with anyone else?" Weir asked her as they sat.

"Just Carson, but he's not a military historian or a political scientist. All he sees is the potential danger to his wife."

Weir nodded. "It's -- quite a daring proposal."

"Like Minnie there would say, it's bloody desperate, but we're in dire straits. I hear talk from everyone, and they're all afraid. We know the Wraith are coming; they always come. Every world we visit in this galaxy has been culled at one time or another. The Athosians work side by side with us, and look how damaged they are."

"You don't have to persuade me that we're in danger from the Wraith, Laura."

"No, of course not. But I do have to persuade you that it's time to do something. Carson wants us to wait until this retrovirus is ready, but even he can't guess when that will be, nor how it will ultimately work. He admits that it's unlikely one snort of the stuff will permanently turn them into Paris Hiltons."

"I hope not," Weir said. "But I take your point. Even if we can somehow deliver the virus, how do we persuade them to continue to use it?"

"I love my husband," Laura said. "I respect him, and I admire him. But he's just wrong about this. I know you're a negotiator, and that means you want to negotiate. But that would be like, like that goat trying to negotiate with Minnie. How successful do you think that would be? Are we really going to negotiate with our food source?"

Weir shuddered, and nodded. "I'm terrified of them. Even if they were -- even if they ate, rather than . . ."

"Than fed off us."

"Even if they did, how could we be sure? How could we ever trust them?"

"Exactly. You can't trust a tiger not to eat you. It's in their tiger nature."

"But the examples you gave earlier, of Cyprus and the Nagas -- all those ended through negotiations."

Laura shook her head. "Maybe at the very end, but not for years and years. They fought back against overwhelming odds. We have to do the same."

"You're very persuasive."

"Because you want to be persuaded."

Weir raised her eyebrows, maybe in surprise. "Yes, I do. Well." She rose. "John and Rodney are off world. When they return, I'll schedule a meeting. I'll send your report to them so they can read it first."

"Thank you," she said fervently. "Sheppard will understand. He'll see the sense in this."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Weir said. "I'll talk to Mike Lorne and Ronon tonight." She blushed slightly, and Laura smiled. She was tempted to ask Weir what it was like having three men in her bed, but decided not to. That team's relationship was an open secret, but still a secret.

"Thank you," she said again as Weir left. Laura remained on the steps, watching the light on the water, listening to Alex bang away, and to Minnie singing while she weeded. After a while, she helped weed, too.

Weir kept her word, and Laura was invited to the next department head meeting. Carson looked miserable. They hadn't discussed her proposal much; she wasn't sure if he felt it was disloyal because she didn't place her faith in his retrovirus or if he was just fearful of what she was proposing. She feared it was because he found it unethical.

Weir quickly turned things over to Laura, who took a deep breath and looked around the table. "I realized that what I'm proposing isn't an insurgency. It's a -- well, it's a coup, I guess. A coup de main."

"A coup de main against the Wraith," Rodney said, sitting forward. "What makes you think we have the capability to do this? Do you know something?"

"Not as much as you do, Rodney, or Carson." Rodney looked appeased. "But you're not using your information." She looked at Weir. "Permission to speak freely."

Weir nodded.

"We're being stupid. We're barely holding our own. I propose an all-or-nothing move. Because if we don't solve this problem, we don't have a future."

"That's not true," Carson said. "Look at the Athosians. There are many worlds in this galaxy, dear. Not every one of them have been culled to extinction."

"No, and they won't be," Rodney said. "The Wraith are parasites, and they know better than to destroy their food source."

"I am not a food source. Any children that Carson and I have will not be a food source." Laura stood up. "You've lost sight of the big picture. You're so busy rushing around --"

"That's enough," Sheppard said to her in that quiet way he had with his subordinates, not at all the way he spoke to Rodney. "Go on. Your plan?"

"Carson doesn't know when his retrovirus will be ready. But the idea behind it is sound: deliver something to the Wraith that will stop them." She sat down and tapped her laptop, projecting a Hive ship on the wall behind Weir. "We know what that is. From the scans we've done, we know what some of the interior looks like." She hit another key, and the schema revealed rooms, corridors; with the tap of another key, energy signals. "Rodney and Radek have a theory that the ship itself is alive in some way."

"Sentient, perhaps," Radek said.

"Maybe," Rodney said. "But we don't know that. We don't know near enough."

"We do know enough," Laura said, trying to keep her temper. "We know we need to create something that will kill them. We can harass them for years, or we can strike now."

"Specifics," Sheppard said.

She tapped the keyboard again. "Insert our weapon here, here, and here. If the readings are correct, this should circulate the gas throughout the ship."

"What gas?" Elizabeth said. Laura looked at Carson.

"It's not ready," he said.

"It's readier than the retrovirus," she said softly.

Elizabeth said, "Carson, I know you and your staff have been working in many directions --"

"Yes, of course, I reported on this just two weeks ago. And I think it is possible we've found a toxin. But the risks are enormous." He took Laura's hand. "Too enormous to deliver directly to a Hive ship."

"Then we start by getting it into the darts. We can use the AT-4s to deliver the gas. The cost to us would be minimal, the risk only slightly greater."

"You're suggesting we kill each dart."

"Each and every one we can. I've seen Mike Lorne with the AT-4; he can shoot the wings off a fly with it."

"It's a one-shot weapon," Sheppard said. "We'll pre-load, bring multiple weapons to the sites."

Rodney sat up. "You're thinking of the device Elizabeth's team found, the one that signals the Wraith when a gate has been activated."

Laura nodded. "The idea is to draw the Wraith in. No dart returns; they send in more. They don't return; more come to investigate." She shrugged. "Eventually, the Hive ship will be within reach of our sensors. My hope is that by then we'll figure out a way to deliver the toxin right to the Hive ship." She looked around the table, at the people who made up her world. "Lather, rinse, repeat."

"I don't like it," Carson said firmly. He turned to face Laura, taking her hand between both of his. "Laura, I understand your impatience, but to deliberately call attention to ourselves this way, to something as dangerous as the Wraith --"

"But we won't be drawing them to Atlantis, Carson. They've already destroyed the world where the device was found, or are trying to destroy it. Why else is the signal there? Why do they keep going back?"

"Carson, do you really have something we can use?" Weir asked, leaning forward.

He looked at Carolyn Biro. "We might," Biro said cautiously. "We've had good luck in the lab, but no opportunity to try it. Laura's idea is a way to test it."

"If we're going to be shooting this stuff into the atmosphere, will it hurt us?" Sheppard asked.

"Well, you definitely shouldn't drink it or wash your face in it, but doesn't the AT-4 have a range of 300 meters? Not a problem," Biro said.

"Carolyn, I have to stress that this has never been tested in the field," Carson reminded her.

"That's why we're field testing it," Laura said. "If it works, we kick up the production of the gas and the ammunition."

"I agree," Sheppard said to Elizabeth. "There's no doubt that we have to try this, and the sooner the better. We need to see if the gas works. If it does, we have the first weapon that could be used against an entire Hive ship."

"The delivery of that will be more difficult," Laura said. "But we know where to hit. It's the how we have to answer."

"I have some ideas about that," Radek said. "Rodney and I have been working on a side project. Maybe we should move it to front of the line."

"Yes, yes, it's based the Israeli biologist's work, what's her name? She did a lot of research on bees. Our assumption is the Wraith social structure is parallel to that of bees from Earth."

"Her name is Leah Naveh, and she's studied not only bees on Earth but also the Wraith here, going out with Dr. Corrigan to meet with local people to learn about the Wraith social structure."

"Very interesting findings," Rodney said, nodding at Radek's words. Laura had to laugh to herself as they spoke over each other excitedly. "I had no idea that honey bees were different than other bees until Leah starting explaining her observations."

"They key difference is the extreme social hierarchy," Radek said. "Strikingly similar to what we know of the Wraith. Rodney and I have been discussing how to use the rigid caste system to divide the Wraith."

"All right, all right," Elizabeth said, raising her hands. "It sounds to me as though we have a lot of research going on in different areas, rather than being synthesized. Rodney, call a meeting; work with Laura on this. You two co-chair. I want a white paper on this. How soon can you put something together?"

Laura looked at Rodney, who looked from Laura to Radek and back to Laura. "Um," he said. "Ten days?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Excellent. Excellent, people. I haven't felt this optimistic in a long time. Good job, Laura."

Laura glowed at Elizabeth's praise. She knew that Elizabeth's opinion carried a lot of weight with Carson as well, so she hoped he would be more open to her ideas. She looked at him, and squeezed his hand as he slipped away, not meeting her eyes. She wanted to rush after him, but it took almost an hour to disengage from Rodney and Radek's planning session. When she was finally free, she found Carson in his lab, working, she assumed, on the retrovirus. Silently, she rubbed his back. He needed a shave, and she wanted a cuddle. "Call it a day," she murmured into his ear, kissing him. "Come home with me."

"Laura, I have work."

"I know you do. But you have a wife, too." He hesitated, so she said, "Don't be cross with me. This is important work you're doing, but we should be working in other avenues as well."

"I could never be cross with you, love," he said, and powered down his laptop. They walked back to their quarters holding hands. "It's just," he said as they entered, "I want to free the Wraith from this terrible thing. What they are -- almost human, but not."

"You can't think of them as human," Laura told him. "They're like tigers or sharks. We're not real to them; we're _food_."

He kissed her, and she knew there'd be no further discussion that evening. She led him to their bed and fell across it, tugging him down with her. He was heavy on top of her, but his was a familiar and comforting weight. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his thighs, pushing into him; she could feel him hardening and wiggled against him.

Carson was the sexiest man she'd ever been with. Laura wasn't sure if it was his accent or his kindness that first attracted her, but now that she knew him, she loved him for his passion -- in his work, and in their bed. He was a single-minded man, and she liked being the object of his single-minded attentions. They undressed right there in the bed, kicking off their shoes, pulling down each other's trousers, and he slipped his hands underneath her bra, holding her breasts, nuzzling them through her blouse and bra as he undid the front fastener, releasing them so he could kiss and suck her nipples.

She squeezed his ass and ran her fingers between his cheeks, tickling at his asshole. "On your knees," she whispered, and then maneuvered until he was humping a pillow while she licked and sucked his asshole, pinching and rolling his balls between her fingers, a pillow between her own legs to push against. He loved this, and she loved it; they'd joke about it in private, how perverted their sex life was, but she loved it. Just thinking of putting her face there, softly biting him, licking and sucking at him, made her squirm with pleasure.

Then he turned and kissed her, rolling her onto her back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him move her however he wanted; this she loved, too, when he pushed into her, slowly, carefully, pausing to rest his head on her breast, then rising up again. He pulled her up with him, placing her against the mound of pillows, and moved his hips. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, "I love your pussy, I love fucking you," and she shivered at his voice, his breath hot on her neck, and clutched him tightly, gasping with each thrust.

He came suddenly, freezing in place, then groaning heavily. "On your back," she whispered, and straddled him so she could fuck herself on him, finding just the right angle, just the right pressure, and then cried out as her orgasm rolled through her. She lay on top of him, while he stroked her tangled hair, then slid into bed next to him, pulling the covers over them. He held her while they fell asleep.

She, Rodney, Radek, Carolyn Biro, and Leah Naveh met daily, combining their ideas into a test scenario to be carried out by Sheppard's team. They reported back to Weir and Sheppard on their progress. Laura was pleased and excited and nervous. Carson wasn't happy, but he wasn't fighting this. He knew she was working toward the same goal he was: to make Atlantis safe.

"In two days," she told him one evening. "Unless Sheppard has an objection, in two days we'll go back to where they found the signal and try to call the Wraith. If they come, we'll use Dr. Biro's gas in the AT-4s."

He stared sadly at her. That evening, while they were eating in their quarters, she dropped her napkin on the floor and climbed into Carson's lap, holding him tightly. He didn't speak. She whispered, "I'm going, too." Carson opened his mouth, so she kissed him, hurriedly said, "I should be there. I know precisely where the points of entry should be, and I've been practicing with Mike Lorne. I'll stay out of sight. But I have to be there." When Carson remained silent, she added softly, "It's what I do."

He nodded. "I know, love," he said at last. "And I respect you for it. But I'll be worried every moment."

Wier announced that the first field test of the neurotoxin would be performed. Sheppard was unhappy because he was to remain in the city, but he said very little. Lorne would be in charge, with Cadman his second-in-command, and Carson looked miserable at that. Laura grieved that she didn't know how to make Carson feel better, but she had to go.

The next day they were back on the world Weir's team had been pillaging from, and Laura really wished they'd come up a name for it besides _that planet_. Radek reconnected the signaling device to the gate, opened the gate to signal Atlantis. Within twenty minutes, Lieutenant Edwards flew another jumper. They organized themselves in parts of the city nearest the gate, the puddle jumpers cloaked. Lorne, Edwards, and Laura each held an AT-4, in touch via their radios. Ronon stayed with Radek, following him like an exceptionally large shadow. "Bet Sheppard's pissed he had to stay in the City," Laura murmured to Corrigan. But the agreement was that Weir and Sheppard would never be off-world at the same time, and Weir's team was here. Laura was a little sorry that Rodney wasn't here, though; they'd reached a truce over the years, but she still took pride in her ability to make his face turn red in under sixty seconds.

"How long d'you think we'll have to wait?" she asked Ronon and Radek the next time they passed her way.

"Could be now, could be hours," Radek said. "Usually only a few, though."

She sighed. This was always the boring part of any mission. She'd settled with her back against a building. Since the culling, the grass had grown up, so she'd stamped it, down making a little nest for herself. She had water, a handful of homemade PowerBars, even something to read. She felt jittery and anxious to try shooting down a dart with their new weapon.

Because he was their best shot, Lorne was posted closest to the gate. Laura had been practicing religiously, until her head was ringing, spending a lot of time on the mainland because the acoustics in Atlantis meant that the percussion of firing the missile launcher could knock her out. She was good, too; not as good as Lorne, but not many were.

Then she heard the distinctive sound of the gate engaging, and readied herself. "Lorne!" she whispered into her headset.

"I'm on it. You just take care of yourself, Cadman," he voice whispered into her ear. She moved away from the building, making sure no one was behind her, and settled into position just as the event horizon boiled out from the gate. Then a dart shot through, and another.

"Wait for it," Lorne whispered. Laura heard Lorne fire and watched as the missile, trailing smoke, plunged straight into the heart of the dart, knocking it almost instantly to the ground. She took aim and fired. Her shot wasn't what she'd hoped -- it hit the dart, but not the vulnerable point required to insert the toxin. "Edwards!" she shouted into her mic, but already his missile was streaking noisily toward the dart, which began screaming directly toward Laura's hiding place. Lugging the heavy AT-4, she scrambled aside, rolling on the ground, hoping to hell the wall behind her wouldn't collapse onto her. The dart missed the wall and plowed nose down into the ground, knocking her over. She came up spitting dirt, pulled her pistol, and spun around, waiting to see what, if anything emerged.

Ronon's shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see him pointing his enormous pulse weapon at the dart. "Dead?" he asked her.

She staggered to her feet, wiping her face on her shoulder. "Shit, I hope so," she said. Edwards was trotting toward them from the other side of the date, weapon pulled and pointing at it. "Anything?" he shouted.

"Radek, get back," Ronon snarled in a voice new to Laura. She unintentionally took a step back; that was quite a command voice he had. But Radek kept going, holding out a life signs detector as he approached the dart. "Radek!" Ronon said, then ran to him, seizing him by the collar. He jerked Radek back and, keeping his gun unwavering on the dart, bent to whisper furiously into Radek's ear. Radek reached back and petted Ronon's face, like a pet, Laura thought, a big dreadlocked pet. "Dead," she heard Radek say, and then Ronon shouted, "All clear."

Over her radio, Corrigan shouted, "Dead here, too. Damn, Radek, your toxin works, and Lorne, that was fine shooting. You, too, Cadman, Edwards."

Laura clicked her headset on. "It was Edwards. Lorne, I need more training."

"I'll see you get it," his voice said.

They walked to the dart, and Ronon kicked it, then pushed open the blister. "Not too close," Radek said, pushing at him. "The toxin." They all shuffled back hurriedly. The Wraith was clearly dead; it sprawled over the control panel, unmoving. After a moment, Ronon kicked it, too, and it fell back. "Very dead," Radek said.

"We need to take it to Carson and Biro," Laura said. "So they can autopsy it, or whatever, to be sure it was the toxin that killed it and not the crash."

"We'll take both of them," Weir's voice said. "Let's get started and let's get back."

The preliminary attempt had gone so well that Weir called a city-wide meeting, inviting the Athosians. Laura beamed at the crowd as she entered with her team, enjoying the celebratory mood. The kitchen crew had outdone themselves, too, and the hall smelled of roasting meat and baking vegetables and the sweet pastry they imported in exchange for their labor in the planet's fields.

When the excited conversation had died a little bit, and Laura was pouring herself a cider, she took a moment to look around at all the people. So much had changed in the years since they'd lost contact with Earth. Lots of marriages, most between Atlantians and Athosians, but a few like hers and Carson's. Some gay marriages, too, though they weren't called that. Most people were using the Athosian term, joining; she and Carson had been joined on the mainland by Halling and Weir, with Rodney as Carson's best man. Katie Brown would have been Laura's bridesmaid, but she had died soon after everything changed, so Mike Lorne had stood up for her.

And then there were the really weird configurations, like Weir, Radek, Mike Lorne, and Ronon Dex. Laura tried to joke about them with Carson, but he took confidentiality very seriously and never spoke to her about them. Everyone else did, of course, including Laura. She'd never seen the four of them do anything too blatant. She had seen different pairs of them holding hands at different times, and they all stood too close to each other, and once, she'd caught the tail end of what she was sure had been a kiss between Ronon and Mike. Made her horny to imagine, so she kept her eyes open.

Sheppard and Rodney, well, she'd known their feelings for each other within minutes of meeting them, and then she'd been stuck in Rodney's head for three miserable days, so his feelings had been laid bare to her. She didn't know if they'd overcome the colonel's training and acted on those feelings, but she didn't suppose it really mattered. What mattered was that the two of them had someone in this galaxy to care and look out for. Everyone needed that. That was why Kate Heightmeyer had died, Laura was sure. Kate had tried to be there for everybody, but had had nobody for herself.

Laura squeezed Carson's hand tighter, grateful for his presence in her life. He'd been so shy, and such a mama's boy, that she had almost despaired of ever winning his heart. But after things had changed, he had, too, and now here he was, her husband.

The celebration lasted only a few hours, and then everyone hurried back to the endless work of trying to stay alive. Laura was military, a member of a standing army whose job it was to protect and defend Atlantis. She was justifiably proud of doing her job well, including her skill with a P-90, but an AT-4 was something else entirely. Still, shooting was shooting. For the next field test, she and Sheppard's team had to wait a few hours until the first dart arrived, only one this time, and she shot it down within ten minutes. It had come down, as Carson would say, a treat.

The Wraith pilot was dead, too, and one look at him told her that the gas had killed him. "It totally works," Rodney said. "We should have brought Radek; he really understands these darts better than any of us."

"Did you just say that Radek is better at something that you are?" Sheppard teased him. Rodney rolled his eyes at the colonel, but continued rummaging through the cockpit, ignoring the dead Wraith sprawled there. "Let me help," Sheppard said, and Laura left them to the task. She studied the dart's skin, particularly where her shot had sliced through it.

"We've got enough to study for a year," Rodney gloated. "Excellent work, Cadman. Guess you just needed the challenge of isolation to bring out your good qualities."

"Shut up, Rodney," she said and instantly regretted it when the colonel looked over his shoulder at her. Rodney nudged his arm. "Keep your eyes on the road," he murmured

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Laura told her husband that night. "I swear, it was that easy. We just need to kill enough of those fuckers, and the Hive ship will be here. We'll take 'em out one at a time, but we can do that." But Carson looked miserable so she changed the subject; anything to keep him happy, and not obsessing about his failed retrovirus.

Eventually, the time came for Weir to hold another town hall. "We will in effect be calling the Wraith to us," she explained. "Laura's plan worked beautifully. We now have the technology to destroy the darts, and possibly the Hive ship. We're doing this on an uninhabited planet, one we know the Wraith are still interested in. We won't bring them back to Atlantis."

"But you're still calling the Wraith," some one said loudly. "You're actually drawing their attention to us. Is that really wise?"

"I believe it is," Teyla said. Everyone turned to look at her. Laura had a lot of respect for Teyla and wanted to hear what she said. "We have discussed this at length, and I am persuaded that by drawing the Wraith to that planet and destroying the scouts and darts, one by one, eventually a Hive ship will come." The crowd murmured.

Sheppard said, "We haven't seen a Hive ship yet. Not one. We are not in danger at the moment."

"Or any more danger than usual," Rodney said.

"But you want a Hive ship to come," Alex Glezakos said. "You _want_ that."

Teyla said, "Very much. When it comes, I will fly one of the scout ships and deliver the neurotoxin that Dr. Biro has perfected. I have seen it work many times."

"So we kill one Hive ship. Big deal," Alex said. "More will come and kill us. This doesn't strike me as a good idea."

"Will they?" Teyla asked him, walking into the crowd. She carried herself so beautifully, Laura thought. Like royalty. "If a Hive ship is destroyed, will not other Hive ships in the area leave for less dangerous hunting grounds?"

"Or maybe if one Hive ship is destroyed, that'll mean less competition for the others?"

"Then we will kill it, too," Teyla said.

"People," Elizabeth said, stepping next to Teyla. "This is a military operation, which means we are not operating as a democracy in this situation. I defer to the military." She looked at Sheppard. "I defer to John."

"I've seen this stuff work," he said. Next to him Rodney nodded. "Trying to put myself in the place of, well, anyway. Tactically it makes sense for another Hive ship to come, yes. But there will reach a point when no others will come. They'll either be in other quadrants of the galaxy, with their own, uh, feeding schedule, or decide something is too dangerous here."

"And how many Hive ships are you gonna have to destroy?" Alex asked Sheppard. "How many _can_ you destroy?"

Laura really didn't like the tone of his voice. "Look," she said, stepping right up to him. "We can't know. But here's what we can know: Carolyn's toxin works. The delivery system works. We can kill these assholes. I don't see the problem."

"Cadman," Sheppard said warningly, just as Carson said, "Laura."

"Sorry, sir, but listen." She turned back to Alex. "This will work. Not today, not tomorrow, but it will work." She stared at him.

He finally nodded. "Even if it doesn't," he said to her, taking her hand. "Pretty cool effort."

She smiled, and turned to look at Carson. "Pretty cool," she agreed.

"So it's a go," Sheppard said, looking around. "Any more questions?"

Laura wasn't surprised that no one had any or, if anybody did, they kept their mouth shut. But most of the people looked determined, and some were nodding their heads. She went to Carson and kissed him thoroughly, postponing the scolding she knew was coming. "Gotta go," she whispered into his ear, and licked him, turning to see Sheppard watching, eyebrows raised. She smirked at him, and then instantly felt apologetic. "Sorry, sir," she said. "No excuse, except I feel pretty passionate about all this."

"Laura, dear, I'll be in my office. John," Carson said, stepping between them and giving Sheppard a long look before leaving with the others.

"I am sorry," Laura repeated when just she, Sheppard, and Rodney were left.

"I got it," Sheppard said. "Let's go."

Laura followed him into the jumper bay. "High winds forecast," she reminded him as she packed the AT-4s and ammo into the jumper. Lorne, Ronon, Ochoa, and Stackhouse joined them. They had the routine down by now, and jumped to _that planet_ once a week. Almost every time, one or two darts and an occasional scout would come through.

Twice a week, Lorne, Crown, or Sheppard would take the puddlejumper to pick up supplies -- they'd finally found the chemical warehouse, making the chemists and lone pharmacist in Atlantis very happy. Carson had been pleased with that find, too, and they'd emptied it in a single day, storing the contents on the north pier, where no one had set up labs or quarters yet.

While they searched for supplies, they searched for reasons the Wraith continued to return to that planet. So far, it was the only gate with the signaling device. Carson had flown out once with two biologists and a geographer to study air and water pollutants; Carson was afraid the Wraith had been doing some kind of testing on the humans on that planet, but they'd found nothing other than the usual urban pollutants. "A heat sink," Dr. Zhang had said, "but that's to be expected."

"My wife is working here," Carson had quietly told them when he'd thought Laura was busy elsewhere. She leaned against a wall, arms crossed, and shamelessly eavesdropped. "We're trying to, to have a baby. I don't want anything to happen to her."

"No worries," Dr. Brunswick, one of the biologists said. "That gal of yours'll be popping 'em out like gangbusters. Nothin' here to stop that."

Laura shook her head, but was glad he sounded so confident. Carson worried too damn much.

While they were capturing darts, Sheppard was training others how to fly them. Teyla, Parker, Hansen, and Reed were all learning, along with Laura. They were nasty little things, the darts, and Laura was convinced she could smell Wraith in them.

Dr. Zelenka and Rodney had rigged up a clever HUD that translated Wraith into English. Teyla still had trouble reading English, but she had a talent for flying them that Laura privately attributed to her connection to the Wraith.

Yaw, pitch, roll -- she took her dart through its paces with increasing confidence these days, anxious for the Hive ship to finally arrive. Even though she knew credit belonged to many people, Laura still considered this her idea, and she wanted it to work. She was certain it would work. Despite Carson telling the others that they were trying to have a child, she refused to bring a baby into this world with the threat of the Wraith so dire. "Just one Hive ship," she promised him, fucking herself on him while he stared up at her, his blue eyes full of anguish and love. She jerked her hips harder, reaching behind her to rub at his balls, and he came gasping her name.

"Like gangbusters," she whispered to herself as she took aim and fired the AT-4. Fucking Wraith. Why did they keep coming back, when none returned? When would they reveal the Hive ship? When would she get her chance to kill those sons of bitches? Why couldn't Carson understand that this was what she'd trained for, that this was more than a job, more than a career? Protecting others was her calling, just as healing others was his.

They kept returning to that planet, bringing back more supplies, researching the people who had been culled, and trying to understand why the Wraith were so interested in it. There were few cultures as advanced, at least that the Atlantians had encountered in the Pegasus Galaxy, so Rodney guessed it had something to do with that, and wondered whether their technology was why everyone had been culled or killed, rather than some left to repopulate the place. Maybe the Wraith just wanted to be sure everyone was gone, and certainly with the stargate triggering the signal at least once a week, they had to be wondering who had escaped.

Radek suggested they take the signaling device to another deserted planet, to see if a scout would come through there. Laura thought it was a good idea, but it had to be wrangled in a series of meetings, most of which she wasn't invited to and which Carson kept confidential. "I want to _go_," she told him, frustrated, but he wasn't particularly sympathetic. He fucked her that night, silent and furious, and she welcomed his passion, biting his throat and ears, twisting in his arms, pushing against him until she came, exhausted.

Within a week, Radek and Rodney had persuaded the others that, if they really wanted to fight the Wraith this way, signaling them from another planet would increase the odds. They made a good team, she thought: Lorne, Ochoa, Stackhouse, and her with their AT-4s; Radek and Rodney tweaking the weapons, studying the structure of the darts; Carolyn Biro autopsying the dead Wraith. Carson stayed in Atlantis, worried and, Laura knew, silently angry, but he supported the effort even as he continued to work on his retrovirus. Sometimes Laura thought the differences between doctor and soldier were too great, that their marriage had been a mistake, but then she'd look at his tired face, his beard growing grey, his sad sweet smile, and know that she couldn't live without him.

All the while, Sheppard trained them to fly the darts. The engineers had devised clever interfaces between the Wraith HUD and their own computers installed onboard. Lasers projected the data, its focus fixed at infinity; the floating display was touch sensitive, so Laura could scroll through data without taking her eyes off her target. She loved arcing through the silent skies and knew she was the best pilot they had, except for Sheppard. They were a competitive lot, even Teyla, which surprised Laura.

The number of meetings Laura had to attend each week increased, as did her training. Thus far, they'd never let a single dart return through the stargates on either planet; no wonder the Wraith were curious, if vampiric space bugs experienced curiosity. Carson said they did; but then, he thought they were nearly human.

Laura thought differently, and though she rarely argued with her husband, the weight of their disagreement lay heavily between. He spoke up at the staff meetings she attended, arguing that _jus ad bellum_ should be translated as _right to war_, not as _justice in war_, that they had no such right, nor was this just. But Sheppard, Laura knew, would never agree, nor would Weir.

The last time, he and Carolyn shouted at each other, Carson rising to his feet. Weir rapped on the table twice, then again, but they didn't stop until Sheppard had shouted, "Hey!" Carson took a deep breath, rubbed his face, and dropped into his seat.

"Fine," he said hoarsely. "Kill them then. It's what you want, isn't it? To be rid of them? No competition, just the technology from their dead ships. Just like that planet you've been thieving from."

"Carson!" Laura said, sitting forward in her chair. She didn't know what to do. An awkward silence stretched on until she rose and went to her husband. "Come on," she whispered into his ear, kissing him. "Come with me." She led him from the room.

He walked stiffly, an automaton, angry at her, she knew, and unhappy because of it. She led him to their quarters and pushed him toward the bed, where he sat staring at the floor. She knelt between his feet, her hands on his knees. Usually she found this an erotic position; she loved blowing him like this, his dick heavy in her mouth, listening to him cry out, twisting and squirming until he'd pull her up on top of him, rolling her onto her back.

But not this time. This time she knelt there, silent, lightly touching his soft beard. "You're going to do this," he said at last. So sad, she thought, painfully aware of her pounding heart, her labored breath. "My beautiful beloved wife is going to participate in genocide."

"Carson, please," she begged. "Please don't think that. Not about me."

He finally met her eyes, and she saw he was crying. "I always loved you," he said almost too softly for her to hear. "I always did."

She stared at him, anxious and more frightened than she'd been on any battlefield. "I love you," she said as slowly and clearly as she could.

"But you don't respect me," he said.

"That's not true!"

"Then obey me!" he shouted at her, seizing her arms. "I'm your husband, am I not? Do you not owe me something? I forbid you to go!"

"Carson, please, you're scaring me," she said, trying to sit in his lap, to touch him, to calm him.

"Ach, just go then, go." He pushed her away, rougher than he'd ever been, gentlest of men. He sighed again, profoundly, and said in a softer voice, "I need to be alone, Laura. For a little while."

"I don't want to leave you," she tried to say, but suddenly she was crying. "Please, Carson."

He rose and held her for a long while, murmuring loving words, calling her _my dear girl_ and _beautiful, honorable Laura_ until she was soothed. When she raised her eyes to his face, he kissed her sweetly. "_Nae man can tether time or tide_," he told her. "Go back to your meeting. I'll wait for you in my office."

"Carson --" she started, but he kissed her again, turned her, and lightly swatted her bottom.

She left, turning at the door to look at him. "Dry your eyes," he said in his usual voice. "You know you don't like the men to know you cry."

She nodded, and hurried back to the meeting, wiping her face. She was furious at him, at herself, at the Pegasus Galaxy for putting them in a situation where she had to choose between her training and conscience and what the person she most loved in the world wanted.

The meeting was ending by the time she returned, people milling around just outside the conference room. "Sir," she said to Sheppard, snapping him a salute. "Your orders?"

He stared at her, hands folded across his abdomen as if he were carrying an invisible P-90. Behind him, Rodney paused in his discussion with Radek, watching them. "Carry on," Sheppard said, returning her salute. "Rodney?"

"Yes, yes, ah, Radek, walk with us, you, too, Biro." They left her standing by herself. Someone touched her shoulder and she turned to find Teyla.

"Perhaps we should spend more time in simulations," Teyal said. "We can discuss our strategy."

She smiled gratefully. She honestly couldn't think of anything she'd rather do. "Any decisions on when?" she asked as they started toward the jumper bay.

"Doctor Zelenka believes the Hive ship is already within the range of the darts if we utilize one gate beyond our own."

"Then we should go," Laura said firmly, not thinking of Carson.

Teyla smiled sadly. "We must, I believe, go sooner than later."

Sooner than later. Laura nodded to herself as she followed Teyla. She hoped her husband would forgive her.

* * *

**Broken Heroes**

John first met Rodney's sister while lying in a drugged stupor on M6F-321. "Why do we keep finding planets where drug use is required?" Rodney had whined, but John wondered the same thing. Had SG-1 had the same experience in the Milky Way, or was this unique to the Pegasus Galaxy? Maybe the ease of the use of stargates proliferated the practice? Though he still didn't understand why it was thought necessary to ingest psychotropic substances to establish trust for trade.

But he and Rodney had dutifully eaten the dirty-looking mushroom things and within thirty minutes begun vomiting a green goo that pleased their hosts mightily. Ronon and Teyla were permitted to remain sober, and Ronon had held John so he wouldn't fall into his own puke until he could lie down and watch the visions.

He was in a lab; he knew this by the long benches, old-fashioned Bunsen burners spaced evenly along them, and racks of test tubes. There was a woman with her back to him, dressed in a white jacket, like Carson and Radek sometimes wore. It was a big open place, with lots of light from high windows as well as ranks of fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

"Dr. McKay?" a young woman put her head through one of the windows running the length of the room, to John's left. He was even more surprised when the woman in the lab coat raised her head. The girl at the window smiled at him but returned her attention to Dr. McKay. "You won't forget your office hours again, will you?"

"Damn. It's just, I'm in the middle, Linda, oh, shit." The girl grinned. "All right. I'll be there. How much time do I have?"

"You were due there," she looked at her wristwatch, "twenty minutes ago."

"Shit."

Linda laughed and pulled her head back out of the window, shouting, "Make sure she gets there!"

Dr. McKay turned around. "Um. Hello."

"Hello," John said. "Sorry. I got lost. And you're late."

"Shit. Yes, yes, so I am. Um. Claudia!" she yelled; if John hadn't been used to his own Dr. McKay, he might have been startled. "Claudia, I have to go back to my office; will you lock up?"

"Of course. And yes, I know; preparing the medium is the most important step. I won't go near it, or let anyone else, either."

"Thank you, Claudia." Dr. McKay looked at John. "I'll walk you out, see if we can't get you un-lost."

"Thanks." He gave his most charming smile but her eye-roll stopped him. "I'm John Sheppard," he said hesitantly, putting out his hand.

She shook it. "Jeannie McKay. Now come on, I'm already late apparently, though I've never really understood the concept of office hours. I tell them everything I know in class, and teach them everything I can in lab; beyond that, they simply have to figure it out. Or not, more commonly. I mean, yes, I'm a teacher, but I also have my research."

"What do you research? Can I ask that?"

"I'm an epidemiologist, and I've been working on environmental toxins and neurodegenerative diseases, like Parkinson's."

"I thought you'd be a physicist."

She looked at him sharply. "And why, Mr. Sheppard, would you think that?"

"Isn't your brother one?"

"You know Rodney?"

"I know Rodney."

She stopped, and looked up at him. She was about Rodney's height, with his coloring; even her eyes were the same blue as Rodney's. "May I ask how?" she said slowly. John got the same feeling of rising energy from her that he got from Rodney before he exploded into action or speech or incoherent raving.

"I've known your brother for almost two years now. We met in Antarctica." John hesitated, and then said, "We're pretty good friends."

"That's ridiculous," she snapped, and started walking again. He hurried after her. "People like you aren't friends with people like my brother."

"What? Why not? Hey, Rodney's a great guy. Kinda excitable, but he's always come through for me."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her mouth in a familiar tight line. "Why are you here? Has something happened to Rodney? I thought you said you were lost; you're saying it's just a coincidence you ended up in my lab, your friend's sister's lab? I find all this very unlikely."

"No, really, it's true. Look, Dr. McKay, Jeannie, wait. I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm not even sure I am here. I think I'm dreaming this. But just in case not, in case I'm really here, it's important you know -- Rodney's more than a genius. He's a hard-working, coffee-drinking, highly eccentric, and much-loved genius." John wasn't actually sure if the "much loved" part was true, but he felt obligated to try to persuade her. "You should be proud of him. Okay?"

She stared at him for a long time. "I'm so late," she finally said, tilting her head to study him. "I absolutely have to go before they decide to haul my desk into the quad again. But okay. You sound sincere. It's been a long time since I've seen Rodney." She smiled, a bit sadly. "Tell him hi, okay? And that, uh, well, tell him his sister loves him. Even if he is a prick."

"I will," he promised, and shook her hand, then impulsively hugged her. "Go, you're late. Just remember, okay?"

She nodded before turning and walking briskly away. He stood in the warm sun wondering where he was -- how did he get here? Where'd he leave his car? Why had he come?

His head throbbed and his mouth tasted vile. "Oh, shit," he groaned, and someone helped him sit up.

"Drink this," Ronon said, pushing a heavy mug of something hot into his hands. John held his face over it, letting the steam warm him. "Drink," Ronon said again, so he obeyed. The flavor wasn't too bad, and it sweetened his dry mouth.

"Guh," he finally said, and opened his eyes. "Where the fuck are we?"

"M6F-321," Teyla called.

"Planet Puke," Ronon said. "You been out a while. Teyla was going to call Beckett."

"No, I'm okay. Jesus, I could use some Tylenol, though. Hey, how's Rodney?"

"Oh, now you think of me," Rodney said. "I could be dead for all you'd notice."

"Shut up, Rodney; I fucking dreamed about you, okay?" John didn't mean to be so sharp, but his head really hurt and his stomach felt like someone had kicked him there.

"Dreamed of me? Wait, tell me later. So what's the status?" Rodney asked Teyla, ignoring John.

"Now that you are both awake, our hosts wish to see us. They will let us know their decision."

John wondered if he'd have to tell them what his vision or dream had been. It had felt so real, but he supposed that was to be expected. He watched Teyla help Rodney up, and then let Ronon pull him to his feet. They stepped into brilliant sunshine and he had to stop, close his eyes, before moving to a low platform where the people who'd given him the mushrooms sat. Teyla and Ronon bowed, so John followed suit, and watched Teyla elbow Rodney into bowing as well.

The elderly man, wearing what John considered a blue dress, raised his hands. "You have seen and you have been seen," he announced. John resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. "You carry the memories of the Ancients as well of yourselves. You share this with us; trade is acceptable." He looked first at John and then at Rodney. "Thank you. What you have is not unknown to us, but it is not common. We will treasure the trade. Arien will speak to your people."

He lowered his hands and clapped them once. A much younger man, in a homespun dress, walked around the platform and bowed to them. "I am Arien. Come with me to the trading house." He left and they followed, John twisting back to see the elders still sitting in meditation or whatever they were doing.

Back in Atlantis, John wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed, but of course Carson was worried stupid about whatever it was they'd ingested and ran even more tests than usual on them. "You look remarkably well for two men who vomited enough to disturb their blood pH and potassium levels. Your color is good, your temperature normal -- when was the last time your bowels moved?"

"Carson!" Rodney complained, circling his hand to indicate the others listening. "My bowels are _fine_, thank you. I just want to go to bed."

"Not until we get some fluids in you. No, Rodney, I'm not interested in your workload, nor are you or you wouldn't have mentioned bed. Go lie down. Cyndi, set up two IVs, thank you. Gentlemen." He gestured, and John knew there was no help but to find a gurney and lie down.

Teyla and Ronon returned to meet with Elizabeth for their debriefing, the security detail returned to their duties, and finally Carson left them in peace. Though John refused to admit it to Carson, he was tired from his dreams. He closed his eyes.

Cyndi woke him putting the IV in, and he saw Rodney lying not far from him, the saline already dripping into him. When Cyndi had left, he said, "Hey, buddy." Rodney nodded. He looked as tired as John felt, and his forehead creased as if the light bothered him. "You okay?"

"I've been better. You?"

"Okay. Really tired, though. That was nasty shit."

"I can't believe I did that. What was I thinking?"

"Trade."

"Oh, yeah." Rodney sighed. "Guess it worked. Wonder what we'll get for our efforts?"

"Fries," John murmured. "Ketchup. Velcro. Fabric softener. Dungeness crab."

"Mmm," Rodney agreed. "If you're dreaming, dream bigger. Microscopes and telescopes. A standard test case for dynamical star formation algorithms. A Turing test for the Ancient database."

"You're weird, Rodney."

Rodney turned his head and smiled at John. "But very very smart," he said, and John could only agree.

When Carson finally let then go, Rodney hurried to his lab but John swung by Elizabeth's office on his way to his quarters. She was there with her team, planning tomorrow's meeting with Arien of Planet Puke.

"I don't really understand what we traded," Radek said to John when he came in.

John shrugged. "Our dreams? You should ask Teyla or Ronon; they didn't take the stuff. And don't you take it, either; it's disgusting."

Ronon said, "The old guy said you gave them your dreams, and that they were really good."

Elizabeth's team stared at John. "Uh, nothing really exciting. I dreamed that I met Rodney's sister."

"So a sex dream," Lorne said.

"No, jeeze. She was working in a lab, and had to get to her office hours. Nothing sexy about it. Although she was nice looking. Little older than Rodney, I think."

"That's it?" Elizabeth asked. "That was your dream?"

John shrugged. "It's all I remember. But I really remember it, you know? Not like a dream at all, but like I was back on Earth."

"What did Rodney dream?"

"Didn't ask him. Ronon?"

"He never said. But the old guy liked it, I know that."

"Maybe he had the sex dream," Lorne suggested.

"You have a one-track mind, Mike," Radek told him. John watched them; the four of them stood very close to each other, Ronon resting his hands on Elizabeth's desk to lean over them, Radek and Lorne sitting next to each other. John knew their team operated differently than his.

He yawned. "Go to bed, John," Elizabeth said. "We won't be leaving until noon our time, so if you think of anything, you have time to let us know."

"Night." He left the four of them feeling something like regret: a wish that he could have what they had, a melancholy that they had each other when he had no one.

He thought about that more waiting in the transporter. He and Elizabeth had obliquely discussed declaring independence. A free and independent Atlantis -- the idea amused him as much as it excited him. They could make new rules. He was tired of the old; they didn't fit, as if he'd outgrown them. He'd certainly moved past them, as Major Lorne had. Carson had once said that very thing to him: that he was more Atlantian than Scots these days, and that had been over a year ago.

Even if there was a way to return to Earth, John didn't think he'd ever choose to return. He had nothing there. Everything he loved was here in Atlantis. He thought the door to his quarters open, and open they slid. He raised the lights just a little, and warmed the water in his shower; Atlantis obeyed his every bidding sometimes before he knew what he wanted. He patted the wall next to the door as he entered, stripping for the shower already steaming.

So Atlantis was home, he was home, watching others pair off. "Not a viable gene pool," Carson had also shared with him when they'd first lost contact and were wondering what kind of future there would be for themselves. Not a viable gene pool if they remained only with each other, but there was an entire galaxy out there to choose from. He'd been best man for three of his people already, most marrying into the Athosians with whom they shared this planet. Maybe they were together too much, a big family, and they were too much like siblings to find each other desirable marriage partners?

But that couldn't be the case, he thought, drying off with the help of the warm air blowing from the vents. Cadman and Carson were together, and talking of children. Lorne, Radek, and Elizabeth had formed some kind of family, though theirs included Ronon, and now Elizabeth was about to give birth. He wondered who their child would resemble.

John lay down, exhausted and worn out from the day's adventures. Closing his eyes, he saw Jeannie McKay's face, or at least the face he'd given her in his drug-induced dreams. She had a nice smile, not quite as lopsided as Rodney's but still a little crooked. Wry, that would be the word. She had a wry smile. As if every smile held pain as well as humor. Rodney was like that, too. Wry. Clever and grim and humorous.

His last thought was of Rodney, smiling at him, but a gentle smile. Not wry in the least.

He was starving when he woke the next morning; he hadn't felt like eating the night before, not after throwing up all afternoon. Clearly he was well now, though, so he let Diamond heap his tray with eggs and potatoes and fruit salad. That the eggs came from a creature with scales and the potatoes grew on trees didn't bother him anymore, although he never quite forgot.

"Colonel," Rodney said, sitting down across from him. "You're up early."

"Hungry," he said, looking pointedly at Rodney's tray, which was every bit as full as his.

"Yeah. Good to be able to face food again. Not an experience I want to repeat."

"No." They ate silently for a while, John very happy that his stomach was welcoming breakfast. "Listen, Rodney," he said. "It's probably not important, but I wanted you to know that I dreamt about your sister yesterday. Jeannie, right? Is she by any chance an epidemiologist? Because that's what she was in my dream. A teacher and a researcher, she said."

Rodney stared at him. "Yes, she is. That's bizarre. Did I tell you that? You must have read that somewhere."

"Probably. Though I don't remember knowing it. But it was nice, she was nice." He told Rodney what he remembered about the lab, and the girl in the window, and her desk in the quad.

Rodney laughed. "That sounds like her. She's a good teacher. She was my first teacher, really. I was sick a lot as a kid and she used to teach me what she learned in class. I was always ahead anyway."

"She was nice. In my dreams."

"Yes, you said that." Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Are you sexually attracted to my sister? Because I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"No, Jesus, Rodney. I just felt comfortable with her. Also, she said to tell you that she loves you."

"Cool." He beamed at John, but his smile faded quickly. "Um. I should tell you that I dreamt about you yesterday. That you took me home to meet your mother." Was Rodney blushing? He had a red face anyway, so John couldn't be sure. "We never got there in my dream, but we traveled together. You were driving, too fast, I might add. I was in charge of the music. We drove and talked and even sang along. Ate a lot en route, as I recall. I dreamt we sat by the window at a Tim Horton's and talked about the frequency of dynamic rollovers during helicopter takeoffs."

John stared at him. "We did?"

"Yeah. It was -- nice." Rodney lifted his chin. "I liked it."

John ate more of his breakfast, thinking about a road trip with Rodney. He had to smile at the thought. "Yeah," he said finally. "It'd be cool. I think we'd have fun."

"I do, too. A long trip. Um, I, we never got to your mother's in my dream. I don't know where we were going, except a long way. Can I ask where she lives?" John dropped his eyes to stare at the remains of his breakfast. Before he could answer, Rodney said, "Never mind, none of my business, I know that. Sorry, really."

"No, it's okay. It's just that she died a long time ago. Guess that would be a long drive." He looked at Rodney, whose expressive face showed his dismay. "Really, it's okay. You couldn't know. I don't talk about it."

"Sorry," Rodney said. "I'm sorry she died, and I'm sorry I made you talk about it."

"No, dammit, Rodney. I said it's okay and I meant it." And he did, John realized. More than that, he wanted to tell Rodney. "I was in high school. It was a terrible time for her to die; I was a typically self-involved teenager and all of a sudden I had to cope with my mother's illness. Not very gracefully, either."

"It's okay," Rodney said. "I want to hear; I'd be honored to hear. But not right now. Not at breakfast in the mess hall. We can talk later, in private."

John nodded. "I'd like that," he said, and he really meant it. He hadn't talked about his mother in decades. Rodney would be embarrassed and awkward, but he'd say whatever he felt, and John liked that. What you saw was what you got with Rodney, John thought, staring at him. "There's not a lot of bullshit about you," he said thoughtfully. "Except when you exaggerate your abilities, which you totally don't have to do; they're pretty awesome pre-exaggeration."

"Awesome?" Rodney repeated faintly. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

"Listen, I've got to get to work; Radek's off-world today, and we take turns terrorizing the others, as you know. But tonight let's do something. Let me, I mean, is there a movie, or something you want to do?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. I heard that new vid from M8F-948 is good. _The Taskmaster's Daughter_?"

"Oh my god, Ronon loves that, which means it's a piece of shit, but sure. We'll watch it. We can MST it."

"I admire your goal," John said, scraping up the last of his eggs. "Twenty hundred?"

"My quarters," Rodney said. He stood, looking down at John for a moment. That, John decided, was a fond look; he recognized it because he felt the same way. Then he bustled off and left John to finish his breakfast in thoughtful peace.

Life in Atlantis had taken on a different rhythm now. John assumed Earth was gone, destroyed by whatever freak-ass aliens the SGC had encountered in the Milky Way. He remembered standing in the Operations Center next to Elizabeth and Rodney, watching the monitor, waiting for a signal from Earth and finding only static, _the color of television, tuned to a dead channel._ And he believed it was a dead channel.

When he and Rodney had walked out of Elizabeth's office that morning, neither of them had had anything to say. In silence, they walked to their quarters, Rodney pausing outside John's for a moment as they stared at each other. John watched Rodney continue down the corridor, his footsteps growing softer until John was alone.

He'd flopped onto his bed, trying to come to some kind of terms with what had happened. No supply run. No food from Earth, no replacement equipment or medical supplies. No new clothes or videos or music. No email and no new orders. No nothing ever again. He'd been waiting for new tee-shirts; his stack of black ones were fading grey, or splotched with alien stains, or torn. He wondered what he'd wear when they were finally too shabby.

Then he realized he was thinking about fucking _tee-shirts_ when his home world had probably been blown up in _a terrible, stupid catastrophe_. Were tee-shirts really what he should be considering? What about his men? The people he served? He thought he should laugh or shout, not just lie on his bed and think about the last turkey sandwich he'd ever have.

He wondered what Rodney was doing. Probably calculating the odds that the Earth really was gone. Regretting the loss of his potential Nobel prizes or ever nailing that Sam Carter he raved about. And the last turkey sandwich he'd ever have; John was pretty sure about that.

Finally he gave himself permission to be numb and a bit stupid for a while and, in the meantime, focus on helping others. He climbed off his bed, straightened his clothes, noticing that his tee-shirt had a spot from breakfast on it, and contacted Lorne. The two of them managed to gather up all their wandering warriors, all eighty-seven of them including Ronon, and met in the situation room. Lorne surprised John by lugging in two bottles of Jack Daniels Old No. 7. "Personal item," he explained. "Time to break it out."

"Like in the Royal Navy," John agreed. "One-quarter mug each, then lock the rest up tight."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said. There wasn't much John hated more than giving a talk, especially when he didn't have a clue what to say, so when everyone had his share of whiskey, he just raised his mug. "To Earth," he said.

"To Earth," everyone said, even Ronon, and drank.

"Shit, that's good," he told Lorne. Another last, he thought as he sipped.

When people had loosened up a bit and stopped looking so shocky, he said, "Look. The civilians are gonna be freaked. We all are, but it's our job to protect them, even from themselves. So keep your eyes open. Lorne and I will work out a new duty roster. Those of you who served in Antarctica will know what I mean when I say it's back to those rules: nine hours a day, six days a week. No fucking around, not for a while. All off-world activity is canceled. We'll spend more time on the mainland."

As he spoke, John started to get a clearer picture of what was coming. "We'll spend more time on the mainland to help the Athosians farm. We need food and supplies. Everybody with the gene will be flight-checked on the jumpers. If you've got some secret skill you've been hiding from us, email me or Lorne. We need everything now."

He stopped to sip the whiskey and look around. People were nodding, looking interested, with the exception of a couple men he'd had his eye on anyway. The kind who didn't last long in Atlantis, who probably would have gone back to Earth eventually, if they didn't get sent home with a reprimand. He should've been paying closer attention.

Look at Lorne, he told himself. Ready with a goddamn crate of whiskey. Of course, he'd been working at the SGC for years, going off-world regularly. He'd been trained by O'Neill and Jackson. John was the interloper, the guy who didn't get full clearance until he was already a galaxy away.

John finished his whiskey. "Good," he told Lorne, and he meant more than the booze. "Kendrick and Johnson, come with me. The rest of you: back to your stations. Be helpful, courteous, and don't let the civilians freak."

"What about McKay?" Kendrick asked as he pushed his way forward.

"Not your problem," John answered. He stared at them until they brought themselves to attention. When everyone but Lorne had left, John said, "Gentlemen. I want you to know that I am aware of your behavior and will be monitoring it closely, as will Major Lorne here. I can't send you back to Earth, but I believe we have a cell here not being used. Isn't that correct, Major?"

"Yes, sir. Last occupied by a Wraith, but it's been cleaned since then."

"Excellent. So that's one clean Wraith cell with your names on it. If you have any questions?"

"No, sir!" they both shouted, standing straighter.

John looked each of them in the eye. He knew there would be trouble. Well, sufficient unto the day. "Dismissed." When they'd gone, he sighed and looked at Lorne, who shook his head.

"I'll keep an eye on them, sir, but I don't think the threat of a cell's gonna carry much weight with them."

"Me, neither. Any suggestions?"

"Keep them busy and away from the others. They'll infect them, like maggots in the trash."

"Oh, thanks for the image, Lorne." He sighed again. "Let's get to work on that duty roster. We need to keep them all busy."

"Yeah, and good idea about farming. Exhausting work."

"Did you --?"

"Well, not large scale, but my uncle had a truck garden. I used to help out in the summers."

John shook his head. "We're lucky to have you here, Lorne. Whiskey and farming. What other surprises you got?"

Lorne grinned at him. "Time will tell, sir. Time will tell for all of us."

John had been right to expect some kind of fallout from the news of their loss. He'd blithely continued to work for nearly a week before he had the first nightmare. Waking up sweating, tangled in sheets, gasping for breath, convinced he was a bug, he was blue, he was dying, he was killing everyone in Atlantis, racing and leaping through the corridors, clawing and clutching at everyone he met.

Well, that was nice, he thought, sitting up, wiping his face. He yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes. He was so sleepy, but how could he lie down in those nightmare-soaked sheets again? He thought the lights on and decided to go to work. He'd spent the day on the mainland, helping plow a new field; the botanists had seed for hard duram wheat and wanted to get it in early. Something about it being a cool weather crop. He supposed he was going to have to learn this stuff now. When to plant what, in what kinds of soil, fertilizer, pesticides . . .

He showered for the second time, rinsing off the sweat of the nightmare and scrubbing at his nails that were still dark with the soil of the mainland, then headed toward his office. On principle, he'd given up coffee and was trying different kinds of tea they'd traded for, hoping to find something with a real kick. So far, he was mostly rotting his teeth out with all the sugar he had to add to make them drinkable. He swung by the mess hall and filled a thermos with something the staff had labeled "Red Zinger (Athosian)."

"Up early," Rodney said. John looked up from screwing the cap onto his thermos to see Rodney looking at him. His eyes were half closed and his face puffy with exhaustion.

"You look like shit."

"Thank you, Colonel. Why are you here?"

John shrugged and started walking toward his office; Rodney fell into step beside him. "Couldn't sleep. Tired but wired."

Rodney nodded. "I know what you mean. I think I can sleep until I lie down. If I could figure out how to sleep standing up, I'd be in fine shape."

"You seeing Karen?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I do meet with her twice a month. You?"

John shrugged. "Haven't seen a need. I'll sleep tonight."

"I bet you will," Rodney muttered. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Back to the mainland to finish plowing and start planting. I'm there all week."

"I'm scheduled to start my days there tomorrow, but maybe I'll come in with you today. I'm too tired to think clearly."

"Manual labor -- did you think when you started work on the stargate program that you'd end up literally digging ditches?"

"I'm sure you're well aware that I did not. I still can't believe it. Your nose is sunburned." John smiled and rubbed his nose. It had looked a little pink the mirror this morning when he'd shaved. "Wear a hat, Colonel. Your girlfriends will thank you."

"Rodney --"

"You know that Asha would love to be with you."

"Asha is very nice, but she's too young for me."

Rodney looked at him, slowing to a stop. After a moment, he said, "I'm working in the lab down here. Call me before you head over. I just might come with you. Supervise your work."

John nodded, surprised how much he liked the thought of working side-by-side with Rodney. "Oh-nine-hundred," was all he said. He did like the thought of Rodney making time for John in his life. John envied whatever was going on in Elizabeth's team. He'd watch them grow together, Elizabeth starting to laugh again, Lorne relaxing around him and becoming a friend, not just his XO.

When Karen Rafiq had first suggested they declare independence and restructure the military here in Atlantis, John had been adamantly against it. He thought it would damage morale and disrupt the chain of command. After too many meetings, the department heads agreed to put to a vote whether or not to declare Atlantis independent of Earth, and to John's surprise, there had been majority approval to do so. Not by much, so Elizabeth postponed the decision for three months, then took another vote. That time, the overwhelming majority of people voted for independence. _A free and independent Atlantis_ had become the catch-phrase, and John liked it. He'd been persuaded, and ended up voting for independence both times. Ever since, Elizabeth had been busy developing a constitution for the Republic of Atlantis. Last John heard, they were going to be a parliamentary democracy that would have both a president and a prime minister. He, as Chief Military Officer, would report to the president, whoever that ended up being. He figured it would be Elizabeth.

John had kept the American flag on the left shoulder of his jacket though, until Elizabeth began pressuring him to restructure the military. This time, he met with Lorne, Ronon, and Radek to discuss possible changes. Radek had served in the military in the Czech Republic; "Service was compulsory," Radek explained, shrugging. "In Army Air Force support services."

Rodney proved to be a useful advisor as well, to everyone's surprise. "What?" he exclaimed. "I worked for the US military complex for_ever_, plus I do read history. I know that Canada's armed forces merged into one unit decades ago." That's what Rodney and Elizabeth urged: that they form one unified structure called Atlantian Forces, comparable to the Canadian Forces.

"It only makes sense," Cadman told John one day, practicing with the AT-4s on the mainland. "We're Atlantians now, sir."

What John knew to be unworkable was Elizabeth's suggestion that they do away with titles. He and Lorne silently looked at each other and shook their heads. No way. In private, Lorne confirmed his thoughts. "Fuck up the chain of command, lose control of the troops," he said, shaking his head. "Even if they don't respect you -- which I'm not saying, just _if_ \-- they still respect the rank."

John agreed; he also thought it was dangerous to move away from known procedures and structures too quickly. The Pegasus Galaxy was frightening enough that they didn't need more unknowns.

He and Lorne also agreed that the restructuring was the opportune time for some field promotions. After nearly a week of private wrangling, they decided to divide the new Atlantian Forces into four divisions of twenty, each division subdivided into two squads of ten. Under the new structure, Lorne was promoted to colonel; Cadman to lieutenant colonel; Miller to major; and Crown to captain. Sergeant Stackhouse, who'd proved himself repeatedly, was made lieutenant.

And John, the fuck-up sent to Antarctica, who'd killed his CO, who'd expected never to be promoted again -- John was now General Sheppard.

He was uncomfortable with his new title, and impossibly proud of it. Lorne's support meant more to him than he could admit, and his new aide, a newly-promoted Captain Amos Radner, also encouraged him. Elizabeth beamed her approval. Rodney rolled his eyes and started referring to him as Major Sheppard again, but only in private. In public, he was scrupulous about referring to him as General, though occasionally he did call him General John.

And that is how John Sheppard became a general, John thought one night lying sleepless in bed. Enough bad shit happens and a promotion is bound to come your way. Enough really bad shit, and you end up running the place. Not exactly the career path he'd envisioned for himself when he'd enlisted in the Air Force.

He thought the lights brighter, got up, and removed the American flag from his jacket. He held it in his hand for a long time, trying not to be maudlin, but there it was: with that gesture, he knew he would never see Earth again.

Had he just staged a coup? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of a lot of things these days. The universe had shifted once again.

While looking for new trading partners, he discussed his concerns with his team. Ronon couldn't see any problem at all; he was too much a pragmatist after everything that had happened to him and to his entire world. Teyla, who'd known the Atlantians longer, had listened quietly, while John talked and talked, more than he ever had while on a mission. When they reached a bluff overlooking a valley with clusters of villages with whom they hoped to trade, they stopped for a breather. Teyla lightly touched John's forearm, and said, "But John, you are already in command. What is the difference?"

Rodney laughed, short and sharp, and Ronon nodded. "Uh," John said, but Rodney said, "She's right, and you know it. If you need more help, go see that Karen person." Just then, a young man from the closest village waved at them, gesturing them to come down, so the discussion was shelved, and never returned to.

"You guys are so unsympathetic," John complained when they were back in Atlantis. He and Rodney were sitting in the infirmary; both had tumbled down the bluff. John's trousers had split in the back, and Rodney had knocked his lip so it bled and swelled up. Other than that and a loss of pride, they were both fine, Carson assured them. John was really irritated about his trousers. He was getting pretty good with a needle and thread, but the seams were thin. They really needed a tailor in Atlantis.

"Unsympathetic? What, because we don't have a problem with your promotion? Get over it, General. Teyla's right. You can call yourself colonel, general, or grand poo-bah; it doesn't matter. You're still in charge."

"Rodney's right," Carson said, shooing them from the infirmary. "And thank you for promoting my Laura. She's never been happier."

"I think that's you making her happy," John said, and Carson stammered in embarrassment.

"A late dinner?" Rodney asked.

"I gotta fix these," John said, hitching up the jacket tied around his waist to hide the split.

"Oh, for god's sake," Rodney said. "You wear your trousers so loose we've all seen your plaid boxers. For a general, you sure are shy."

John punched his arm for that, leaving him whining loudly in the corridor for Carson to come rescue him. John smiled to himself walking back to his quarters.

He ended up having a very late dinner with Rodney after all, because it turned out that Rodney wanted to talk to him. "Listen," he kept saying, gesturing with his sandwich. "Listen."

"I am but you're not saying anything," John pointed out several times.

"Okay, look, I'm just going to say this. Don't get huffy, okay? But you need to change the rules of your little army, General. Without naming names, I'm going to mention four people who I'm pretty sure are in some kind of relationship that I am sure includes sexual behavior that the US military considers inappropriate but which is completely and utterly normal and normative and natural and right. And I don't want to see any of those four people hurt or court martialed or harassed or anything. Do you know what I mean?"

"You mean that Lorne, Ronon, Radek, and Elizabeth are fucking, and you don't want Lorne brought up on charges because of it."

Rodney huffed loudly.

"Yeah, I know. Jesus, I'm not completely blind, and the rule _is_ don't ask, and you're the first person to tell. Also: you're right. I'd already decided it. I couldn't very well discuss it with Lorne or Ronon, but I did talk to Cadman and Radner, just in, you know, generalities --"

"Like the entire city doesn't know."

"And they agree, too. So I guess that'll be my first official act as general."

"No, your first official act as general was to make yourself general. Your second official act will to make sodomy legal."

John opened his mouth to argue, but he saw that Rodney was teasing him, so instead he said, "Mmm, sodomy," in Homer Simpson's voice.

"Asshole," Rodney muttered, but he was smiling.

"That's usually where it goes, yes."

And that, John later thought, was really the end of Earth, or at least of the United States' presence in Atlantis. The patch was carefully stored in with other mementos, John wrote a very formal declaration changing the policy, modeling the new one on Canada's, and the few jerks who complained he sent off-world to plow.

"Fuck 'em," he later told Rodney. "They can believe anything they want; I'm not out to convert anybody. But they gotta learn to keep their mouths shut. Nobody gets disrespected in _my_ army."

Rodney had patted his shoulder in an oddly comforting way and then gotten back to work. Radek had hugged him, Ronon beamed at him, Elizabeth cried, and Lorne outed himself to John in John's office that very afternoon. "Really, it's okay," John kept telling him as Lorne got more and more detailed.

"I really didn't mean for it to happen, sir," he kept saying. "But Radek, man, he kisses like nobody's business, and _Ronon_, Jesus Christ, sir, but that guy --"

"Lorne, Colonel, please, I have paperwork and I'm sure you do, too."

"Oh, yeah, yes, sir, of course." He stood at attention for a moment, and John prayed he wouldn't, like, _salute_, but he only said, "Thank you. I was sick of pretending it was a secret."

"Yeah, me, too," John said, and that was pretty much it, although he did catch Radek pinching Lorne's butt one time, and he was sure that Ronon and Lorne were fucking after their morning runs together.

Kendrick and Johnson remained a thorn in his and Lorne's side, and the change in structure and policy did nothing to appease them. How they'd made it to the SGC, let alone to Atlantis, John didn't understand. Sometimes he wondered if he'd been like them, with the same sardonic outlook and borderline insubordination. He hoped not. He'd been an asshole, and angry, but that was different. Maybe.

The re-organization of the military presence in Atlantis had benefits John hadn't anticipated. Cadman, Crown, and Miller handled the day-to-day business of their divisions; Lorne was a brilliant XO; Radner anticipated most of John's needs. He devoted three half-days to the paperwork, four days to helping on the farm or in the gardens, and two days for off-world trading missions. It was a big galaxy, but they'd made some good contacts with whom they could share technology or labor or medical care. They'd even made a few friends.

John enjoyed working on the farms. It was hellishly hard work, but the Athosians knew what they were doing. Parrish was a big help; he knew everything about gene banks and plant genetics, and he was a practical man despite an unnerving habit of shouting poetry as he pulled the plow:

_"Woe for the ruined hearth, black with dule and evil,  
Woe for the wrong and the hate too deep to die!Woe for the deeds of the dreary days past over,Woe for the grief of the gloomy days gone by!"_

"For God's sake," John roared as he struggled to keep the plow upright and moving in a straight line. "Surely you can come up with something more cheerful."

_"Over me soared the eternal sky,_  
Full of light and of deity;  
Again I saw, again I heard,  
The rolling river, the morning bird;  
Beauty through my senses stole;  
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.

"Is that any better?" Leo shouted back.

John shook his head in bemusement, but privately he did think it was better. More than that, he thought it was true. There were moments in the spring, when the sun wasn't too hot nor the earth too hard, when he was pulling the plow with Rodney following, struggling to break the winter-sodden earth, that John did yield himself to the perfect whole. Leo was too noisy; he'd changed in the years from the shy quiet one, or maybe John just knew him better. He approached life fully, and John respected that, admired it. Rodney had that quality, too, only more than anyone John had ever known. Where John had slipped silently, Rodney motored his way, backfiring with complaints and sarcasm and mordant humor.

They were good together in the field and now on the farm. Rodney said he hated the farm because it aggravated his allergies, but in fact he loved it; John could see that. Ronon was the best to be paired with because he could pull the plow like a Clydesdale, and Lorne was good because he moved at the perfect speed for John. Rodney was terrible; when he pulled the plow he wandered like a drunk, he pissed and moaned continually, he insulted John's every move, but he also turned the work into a weird kind of play. Like when he'd worn the shield and asked John to throw him off the balcony; they'd almost pissed themselves laughing over that. He was also shockingly strong; the years in Atlantis had toughened him up, and though his face turned beet red and the veins in his neck stood out, he pulled and pulled and pulled. John thought that Rodney would pull until his heart gave out, if someone didn't tell him to stop.

Harvest nights on the farm, they'd sit around the fire, drinking the cider brewed from the apples they'd picked and pressed, roasting the kind-of-corn and pretty-much-potatoes they'd grown, Rodney sat next to John and showed him the blood blister that had formed on the palm of his hand, and told him exactly how short-sighted the SGC had been when they'd shipped him off to Siberia, and that he'd thought he was still being punished when they'd in turn sent him to Antarctica. "But I wasn't," he said smugly. "Or maybe it was supposed to be punishment, but they were wrong." He looked sideways at John. "Kinda like you."

They'd never discussed how John had ended up in Antarctica, but he supposed it had been common knowledge. Gossip flew around McMurdo faster than a leopard seal could swim. He shrugged. It was, a little. Both men had done and said what they thought was right, not what was expected. But here we are, he thought, nodding at Rodney's grin. Here we are.

After another cider, or maybe it was two, John noticed that the negotiating team settled across the fire from him and Rodney. Now that was a weird combination of personalities, John thought, staring at them. Elizabeth, as always, was in the center; she was the center of that team. Though Ronon still traveled through the gate with John, Rodney, and Teyla, he clearly loved his new teammates. Ronon straddled a log dragged out onto the beach for the bonfires; between his legs sat Radek, red-faced and laughing. Next to him, practically _on_ him, sat Elizabeth, and draped around her was Lorne. The four whispered and laughed and teased one another constantly; high on hard work and their own cider, they looked happier than John could remember seeing them. Happier than he remembered being.

He glanced at Rodney, who was watching them just as closely as John. His wide mouth was curved in a satisfied smile, as if he'd had something to do with their arrangement. John looked back, wondering how people slipped into relationships like that. He couldn't imagine it. How did Lorne, of all people, end up in a foursome? Did Lorne just wake up one day and turn to Ronon or Radek? How did he react the first time one of them touched him with intent? Lorne was laughing, his arms wrapped around Elizabeth but his hands on Radek, while Ronon kissed Radek's ears, tickling him.

John looked at Rodney again, his profile vivid in the firelight. He knew Rodney so well now. The first words out of Rodney's mouth spoken to John still reverberated in his mind: _ Major, think about where we are in the solar system._ And the solar system had opened up to John like a Faberge egg. Even he, in his ignorance, had recognized the significance of the moment, but if he hadn't, the look on Rodney's face as glimpsed through the hovering star field would have told him.

He remembered that look, too, of awe and shock and delight and jealousy. Because everything about McKay was tinged with jealousy, John had learned. He even thought he understood why, and respected Rodney's struggles to control his rivalry toward other scientists.

John turned back to watch the others. They were singing now, their faces intent. Ronon had the best voice, John thought; deep and pure. Elizabeth's was very light, a bit wavery, but pleasant floating above the men's voices. Radek and Lorne stared at each other as they sang, and John had to close his eyes at their intensity. He didn't recognize the music at all; what he could hear sounded alien. He wondered if it was a modern composer from Earth, or if they'd learned this song in one of their trips through the gate.

Beside him, Rodney began to hum, finding his way through the melody. John watched him watch the others, his eyes glistening with reflections from the fire. Rodney learned forward, trying to get closer to the singers, John assumed, and then he turned his head to smile at John.

How, John wondered, did you get from where John and Rodney were to where the other team was? This was the question that he carried with him. What would happen were he to rest his hand on Rodney's shoulder? Or his knee? Would he even notice, wrapped in the music as he was? Would he be offended? Flattered?

John sighed and sat back, staring into the fire now. Knowing Rodney, John thought he probably wouldn't notice. For being one of the most astute observers of natural phenomena John had ever met, Rodney could be astounding blind to social nuances. And yet, John berated himself, this is who you want to work with. To be with, to spend a life in Atlantis with. He shook his head, half in amazement and half in dismay.

Well, he thought, leaning back to stare at the stars above them, still unnamed and largely unknown, it looked like he'd get his wish. Neither he nor Rodney were going anywhere soon. If the Wraith or disease or accident didn't take one or both of them, they might have a few years together. He promised himself to pay attention, as Leo Parrish was always saying; to practice mindfulness. And if the object of his meditations was Rodney, well, nobody had to know. He smiled at that thought.

"What? What?" Rodney asked him. "Do you see something?" He craned his head back. "When I was a kid, my sister and I used to lie in the back garden at night and watch for satellites. We made a calendar of when they'd appear."

"She sounds nice," John said hesitantly.

"Well, we had some good times," Rodney admitted. "I wish we hadn't drifted apart. Though maybe it's better. Now she only remembers her asshole brother and probably doesn't miss him at all."

"Rodney, I have no doubt she misses you."

"Yeah, well, I miss her and she was pretty shitty to me, so I suppose you're right. Actually, I'm amazed at the people and things I miss. Stuff I thought I couldn't be happier to leave, like paying bills. Why would I miss paying bills?"

John laughed. "I have no idea," he said, and permitted himself to lightly smack Rodney's thigh. To his surprise, Rodney caught his hand and held it for a minute, smiling fondly at him.

"You're --" Rodney began, and then stopped abruptly. They stared at each other for a moment, and John felt a ridiculous smile build on his face. He turned away and saw the other four had slipped away. His smile faded. "I envy them," Rodney said, letting go of John's hand. "Lorne ever talk to you?"

"Christ, I had to order him to stop," John said. "Radek talk to you?"

"He _hugged_ me," Rodney said, sounding offended. "The day you and Elizabeth signed that order. Apparently he thought I knew and had kept my mouth shut to save Lorne. Why would I know? Do I pay attention to people's personal lives? I don't think so."

"But you did know. You told me you knew. Jesus, even you aren't _that_ blind."

"Busy, not blind. There's a difference. When did you know?"

"They've been practically glued together at the hip for months. Years."

"Oh, thank you for that image. Although it is kind of hot to imagine all four of them --"

"Rodney."

"Well, it is hot. How can you not think it's hot?"

"I just don't want to imagine my XO in bed with my civilian supervisor, okay?"

Rodney's eyes glazed over; clearly he had no problems imagining Lorne and Elizabeth in bed together. "I wonder who tops whom?" he mused.

John thwacked his head, and stood up. "On that note, I'm flying back to Atlantis. You coming, or spending the night here?"

Rodney scrambled to his feet. "I'll go with you. I have work to do at home."

John smiled at the thought that Atlantis was home. The city was home, in a way no other place on Earth had ever been. Fitting that he'd had to come to a different galaxy to find a home.. He'd noticed who used the word _home_ for Atlantis, too; something Karen Rafiq had said at a department meeting had caught his attention, about homesickness being a genuine physical ailment. For some reason, that had made him notice who still said _back home_ to mean _back on Earth_ and who said _at home_ to mean _Atlantis_. He had a theory that the latter people were better adjusted to the loss of contact.

They flew back in relative silence, Rodney yawning more than talking. "You should go to bed," John told him once they'd reached the jumper bay. "Work tomorrow. It's late, and the world probably won't end tonight."

"I like your confidence," Rodney said dryly, but he did fall into step with John as he checked in with the night supervisor in the Operations Center, and then with the night duty officer, Major Miller. "Sorry you missed the party," John told him, and he meant it; Miller's wife was Athosian.

"Not a problem, sir," Miller said. "Mara's getting too big to fly, and she wants to have the baby here, in Atlantis, with Dr. Beckett."

"First baby born in the city in thousands of years," Rodney said, beaming at him. "Congratulations, Major."

"Thank you, sir. Nothing to report," he told John. "No one's off-world, most folks are on the mainland, and the rest are tucked in their beds."

"Excellent," John said. "Who relieves you?"

"Colonel Cadman volunteered, sir, to let Crown go to the party."

John nodded, and left, Rodney talking about the baby. "Do you think it's significant that Mara is having the baby here? Is it just to have the first real Atlantian? I didn't want to ask Miller, but is there some reason she wants Carson to attend?"

"Not that I've heard," John said. "It'll be cool to have a baby here."

"Radek's over the moon. He's already planning the elementary school. I said what, it's not enough you're running a university? He doesn't even like kids."

John laughed; Radek's feelings about children were well known, but he also took the longest view of Atlantis of anyone John knew. Even Rodney occasionally spoke about converting the Orion into an intergalactic vessel, though that was just a dream. And John wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened to Earth. Maybe it was better to leave the Milky Way behind them. It wasn't, after all, home any more. But Radek was genuinely living here, in their new world. Maybe forming his new family had helped him make that transition.

"Can I come in for minute?" Rodney asked when they'd reached the doors to John's quarters. "I want to ask you something."

John thought open the doors, letting Rodney enter first. He sat on his bed, bending over to unlace his boots. "Yeah?"

"This plan of Cadman's, to use Biro's neurotoxin on darts."

"Yeah?" He pulled off a boot, wiggling his toes, grateful there wasn't yet a hole in the sock.

"I think we need to go for it."

"Rodney, it's late. I don't want to get into that tonight."

"Well, I do. I really think this is something we should try."

"Even though it could bring all the Wraith in the galaxy down on us?"

"Look, we both know that's possible anyway. How long can we hide when we're out looking for trading partners twice a week? We know there are collaborators with the Wraith. Wouldn't you save your world by giving up Atlantis?"

"No, because I don't trust the Wraith. They wouldn't even say thank you."

"Yes, well, I agree, but we know some who don't. A pre-emptive strike is best. We'll draw them to the world where Radek found the device. There has to be some reason they left the device --"

"To draw us in. Or to draw somebody in."

"Well, yes, of course, so let's use it."

John sat quietly, one boot on, the other in his hand, staring at the floor. In his heart, he agreed. He was spoiling for a fight with the Wraith, as ill-advised as his head told him Cadman's plan could be.

"Well?"

John looked up, at Rodney's anxious face. "You really think this is the right thing to do, for us in our situation?" he asked slowly.

Rodney opened his mouth to say yes; John could see the shape of the word on his lips, but he hesitated. At last, he said, "I want to. I'm tired of waiting around, but I know from my past history that that can, ah, cloud my judgment. But." He stopped again. He was frowning, and watching John intently, as if to gauge his response to Rodney's words. "I don't say this often, so mark your calendar: I'm going to defer to you on this. I trust your judgment. For one thing, you have combat experience in a way I don't. I don't think anybody in Atlantis does, except for Lorne. But I think we have a chance, and I think it's the right thing to do."

"What if it destroys Atlantis?"

"Well, yeah. But I think the question is: _When_ do we risk Atlantis? On our terms, or theirs?"

The room felt hot to John, and stuffy, as if Atlantis were holding her breath waiting on their decision. Waiting on his decision: Rodney had said it was his, as had Elizabeth. The moment stretched on, in a flattened silence. He closed his eyes against Rodney's expectation.

"Look," he heard Rodney said. John opened his eyes to see him stand. "You're right; it's too late, we're too tired, and I'm a little drunk. We'll talk later."

"No, wait, wait." He hastily pulled off his other boot and stood facing Rodney. The decision was his, he knew. As much as he wanted Elizabeth to order him to do it, or Rodney to advise him to do it, it was always and only his. "I want it, too," he said finally, hating how soft his voice was.

Rodney's level gaze never wavered. After a few seconds, he nodded once, sharply. "I'll make it as safe as I can for them," Rodney said quietly, and with that, it suddenly came home for John that, for the first time in his life, he would be the one left behind. Generals did not fly missions. He would not fly into danger; he would order others to.

"Fuck," John said, and rolled his shoulders.

Rodney watched him closely, his eyes narrowed. He looked exhausted, John realized. He'd gotten used to them all being exhausted. Most worked seven days a week, all long days, and most physical days working on the farm, in the gardens, or hiking on other worlds. All John's older clothes were too big on him, as were Rodney's.

"Go to bed," Rodney said gently. "I don't say sleep, because we won't, but go to bed."

"You, too. We need you healthy, Rodney."

He shrugged and gave his crooked smile, then patted John on his arm, once, twice, before leaving.

The next day, John announced his decision: They would resume flying through the gate on _that planet_, in order to trigger the return of the darts and scouts, as soon as Beckett and Biro's lab had enough of the neurotoxin created and as soon as Radek and Rodney's delivery system had enough ammo. The equipment they'd hauled back with such difficulty had proven invaluable to this effort; Radek had come to believe that was why the Wraith were so interested in _that planet_. Whatever the reason, finding it had been the best luck they'd had in a long time, ever since the loss of contact.

In the interim, John kept training others to fly the ugly fuckers; Cadman and Teyla remained his star pupils. He intentionally didn't permit anyone with the ATA gene to learn; he didn't want to be tempted to let them make one of the flights to the Hive ship. Nor did he let Miller train, not with a new baby due any moment. Stackhouse was eager, though, as were dozens others, both military and civilian. Other than Teyla, though, he accepted only the men and women who reported to him to enter his Pegasus Galaxy flight school. He was here to protect the civilians, whether scientists or support services, not to put them into even greater danger.

Lorne argued most with him: he wanted to lead the attack. "Look, executive officers don't fly this kind of mission any more than generals do. Besides, you have the gene. You need to fly the puddle jumper, keep it cloaked as backup. You cannot participate in the attack, you cannot reveal your presence, no matter what happens." John received angry looks for that, but Lorne was military enough to keep his mouth shut.

The evil day came when Radek, Rodney, Carolyn, and Carson came to the department meeting with the news John had been dreading.

"It's ready," Rodney said, somehow managing to look simultaneously smug and terrified. "Method of delivery and toxicity united in one package." He looked around the table, stopping to gaze steadily at John. He looked thinner than ever, red blotching his cheeks as he said, "One time, I blew up the better part of a solar system by accident. This time, I'm ready to blow up a fully-occupied Hive ship by intent. I'm not sure which is the greater sin, but since I've already committed one, I'm ready to commit the other as well."

"Rodney, that's not fair," Elizabeth began just as Carolyn said, "Rodney, an empty solar system hardly compares to an entire species that lives to kill each and every one of us," just as Radek said," Rodney, you must forgive yourself; these are not entirely your burdens."

John slapped his hand on the table once. "I'm the one," he said in the silence. "Both Elizabeth and Rodney recognize that this is a military effort. If it's a sin, then it's mine." He slouched back in the chair. "It's why you have a military," he said. Rodney scowled at him, but surprised John by remaining silent. Lorne nodded, and even Elizabeth.

"Then God help us," she said. "Because we're going to do it."

The next day, they resumed flights to _that planet_, jumping through another stargate first, in case the Wraith had developed ways to track back from a gate. Radek thought it unlikely, but Rodney insisted. They were long, tedious flights followed by long, tedious waits on the planet. Not every time the gate was triggered did a dart follow, and sometimes it took a full day to do so. John figured it was good practice, the tense wait followed by sudden action. Lorne was pleased that John continued to permit him to run these exercises; he remained the best with the AT-4, even though Radek's team had modified them so radically that John thought the weapon needed new name.

Even terror can become routine; John had known that for a decade, and the city settled down into a routine of waiting to draw out the Wraith. He was busier than he'd ever been, fearful of famine and illness as well as the Wraith. Rodney kept score of the number of darts shot down; the teams on _that planet_ remained successful, though they no longer used the neurotoxin. That had proven itself repeatedly. Radek's teams developed new ammunition, and then new weapons. They kept the AT prefix for the new weapons, only now it stood for Atlantis.

John continued to run with Lorne and Ronon twice a week, but now when the three parted, Lorne and Ronon openly kissed each other goodbye. Elizabeth taught Radek to swim. Bets Schoemaker persuaded the biologists to research the fish around Atlantis and the crustaceans that clung to the piers, so they were eating fresh fish and chowders. For the gardens that provided herbs and salads and smaller vegetables, Alex also rigged retractable awnings so when the bigger storms blew in, they wouldn't lose all their hard work. John's team discovered a city that specialized in fabrics; though they were too expensive for the Atlantians to buy much of, they would sell them looms. The Athosians had their own weaving process, and one of the mechanical engineers and Parker built a new one that combined features of both. The Athosians hated raising the sheep-like animals that most people in the galaxy seemed to use for wool yarn, so their teenagers were given that assignment. John figured it was good for them, like earning an allowance, plus it gave them a kind of freedom that they would lose when older. No one else had time to wander after stupid animals, hauling them out of ditches they fell into or bushes they snagged their coats on. "It's a good thing they're so cute as babies, and so useful as adults," Lorne told John after they'd been called in to help rescue one that had gotten itself stuck on a ledge and was bleatingly pathetically. "Otherwise I'd just push it right off."

John was sweating like a pig and he'd scratched his face and hands climbing down to the ledge, then knelt in fresh shit the animal had dumped in its panic. "Just push me off," he begged. "Please."

Between the two of them and the five teens hauling on a rope, they managed to get the animal back to the top of the bluff. John had just collapsed onto the grass, wondering how he'd ever get the stink out of his trousers, when his radio clicked on. "They're here," Rodney's voice said in his ear. "Our long range sensors just picked them up."

"Gotta go," John said, and Lorne nodded. They left the kids with warnings to watch their charges more closely, and hurried back to where they'd left the jumper.

"You are not getting in my jumper like that," Lorne said, standing with hands on hips looking at John's knees. "Sir."

"Fuck," John said, and stripped to his drawers. His boxers were no longer wearable, so he had on the soft clingy underwear the Athosians favored. He was embarrassed but Lorne was right. The trousers were shot. He wadded them up and stuffed them in a woven bag. It somehow seemed fitting that he trashed them the day the Hive ship arrived.

The plan had been prepared, rehearsed, re-designed, rehearsed again, until each member of the teams going out was already in place when John and Lorne returned. The department heads had been unanimous that John should remain in Atlantis. Rodney told him, "Consider it punishment for your promotion," and he said it often enough that John had come to believe him. He didn't often permit himself to think about why he was in charge. He wasn't a particularly ambitious man; all he'd ever wanted was to fly and the freedom that came with flying. The freedom he'd expected had never really come except in increments of a few heartbeats when he was shooting through the atmosphere or, nowadays, out a stargate. Every other heartbeat lurched irregularly from the weight of his responsibilities. He spent many nights roving the corridors of Atlantis, sleepless from the lists of things to do, but mostly lists of people to meet, to train, to mentor, to bully, to save.

Now he hurried through those corridors, his jacket wrapped around his hips, fouled trousers in the stinky bag carried away from his body, rushing to dress before the teams left. Rodney caught up with him en route, eyeing him but saying only, "Is Lorne ready to do this?"

John nodded. "He's ready, and he's pretty rested." After all, Lorne hadn't knelt in sheep shit. "He's with his team now."

Rodney followed John into his quarters and watched silently while he pulled on a pair of homemade trousers. He sighed as he tied the drawstring, and stared at himself in the mirror. "First time I've worn these on duty," he told Rodney who nodded. "Seems . . ."

"I know," Rodney said. "Another milestone." He stared at John, looking deeply unhappy. "We're going to lose people. That's -- I -- it's just." To John's surprise, he rested a hand on John's shoulder. "Thank you for not going," Rodney finally said. "We can't. Lose you. I can't." He dropped his hand and walked to the door.

"Rodney." The door stayed resolutely shut because John was thinking _close, close, close_ at it. He pictured Lorne with his team; they were no doubt hugging, kissing. Elizabeth might be crying, maybe even Radek. Ronon would be eloquently silent. Mike would fly off in a cloaked puddle jumper heading toward a Hive ship, something John had done himself. Not knowing how many more hours he would be alive, how many more breaths he would take, but going anyway, not despite his family's love but because of it.

How, John wondered yet again, did Lorne reach that? How did he find what John had wanted for so long?

Rodney stood unnaturally quietly, watching him. I don't know, John said to himself. I don't know. He couldn't tell how much appeared on his face, but Rodney stepped nearer, close enough that John could see his chest rise and fall with each breath, could see him lick his lips and swallow, could see the moment he decided to reach out for John, who stepped into his arms with the same recklessness with which he had piloted a nuclear-armed jumper to what he had believed was his death.

Rodney's embrace was hot, a bit sweaty, and his breath was warm on John's neck. He put one hand on the back of Rodney's head and gently pulled until their faces rested together. One of them trembled, and John suddenly did know what he wanted. Now, now, now, his heart told him; with each breath, he drew in the scent of Rodney, as sharp as ice, outlining the shape of his lungs, filling him, exchanging what he'd had for this, for this, for this.

Rodney wore his crooked smile, sad and pleased, when they broke apart. "Ah, jumper bay," John said, but he was smiling, too.

Everyone was there when they arrived: Lorne with his team, Carolyn Biro, Carson and Cadman, Stackhouse, Ochoa, others from all over Atlantis. Word was out. This was it.

Carson was holding his wife so tenderly that John turned away; Cadman was being Laura for a few minutes. He saw Teyla standing alone, looking distant and resolved, so he went up to her. "You okay?"

"I am," she said. He had long ago noticed that she didn't smile as much as women from Earth. He decided that was due to the responsibilities that had been placed on her at such an early age. "I am ready."

"Come back," he told her. She'd worked so hard at this, learning to fly, learning to use the weapons, firing at targets he'd set floating in space or spinning through the atmosphere on the far side of the planet, and she was good. Calm, resolute, deadly: all qualities he respected.

"Teyla," Rodney said, and hugged her tightly, lifting her to her toes, before setting her down and pressing his forehead to hers for a long moment. "Come back."

"Thank you, Rodney. John." He took her upper arms and squeezed gently before resting his forehead against hers.

He remembered the first time they'd met. You don't look straight through me, she'd told him, and he never had. He'd recognized her as a kindred soul, the sister he'd never had. Now he was letting her go, letting her leave her people behind.

The dart pilots clambered into Lorne's jumper; he would fly them first to the mainland where the darts were hangared, and then follow them through the stargates, cloaked. They had a long flight ahead of them, jumping through three stargates so no one could backtrack their route. Their hope was to be mistaken for the Hive ship's own darts. Lorne was to remain cloaked no matter what, both as a witness and also to follow the survivors back to the nearest uninhabited planet where they would leave the darts before returning home.

Carson kissed Cadman as she stood on the ramp to the jumper. She looked at John, snapped a salute, and then said, "See ya, Rodney."

Within minutes they were rising above the city and heading toward the mainland. From now on out, John would watch this effort only through the sensors. "This sucks," he muttered to Rodney, who patted his arm.

Elizabeth was calm and collected; whatever she was feeling, she didn't tell John. Radek, Ronon, Carson, and Carolyn all stayed in the Operations Center with them; more people drifted in as word spread. Radek said, "You should make an announcement."

John agreed, and nodded to her. She tapped her headset and said, "Citizens of Atlantis, this is President Elizabeth Weir. A Hive ship has been detected at the very edge of our sensors' range. The strike team has just left for the mainland, where, using the darts that Dr. Zelenka's team has repaired and modified, will fly to the Hive ship and destroy it. The goal is, as you know, to do so much damage that the Wraith will turn to other parts of the galaxy for, for their needs. Major Lorne is piloting the cloaked jumper; Captain Cadman, Lieutenant Stackhouse, Staff Sergeant Ochoa, and Teyla Emmagan are piloting the darts.

"All data is being streamed, so you may follow in real time events as they occur. I ask you to remain calm, and to keep your colleagues in mind as they undertake this task. Dr. Simpson has set up a listserv where you can ask questions, and Karen Rafiq will be holding a session tonight in the mess hall at twenty-one hundred. My door is always open, but I ask you to let General Sheppard continue his work without distraction.

"Thank you, and bless our friends and family."

John's mother had told him once about her grandmother's cousin who had fought in World War I. She said that when he returned, he was utterly changed by what the family called shellshock. He could no longer engage in the world, but stayed with his sister, John's great-grandmother, who cared for him for the rest of his life. "What's shellshock?" John had asked her.

His mother had shaken her head. "I don't know," she told him, stroking his hair as he leaned against her. "Grandma said he served on a ship that ferried men to France to fight. I wonder if it was seeing how few returned that changed him, that maybe he felt responsible in some way because he took the men to that terrible place."

John had been too young, and World War I too many lifetimes before his, for him to understand, but now, waiting in the Operations Center, watching nearly unmoving blips on monitors, listening to the hiss of radio silence, he understood. The family name for his great-uncle was Bun, and he smiled sadly as he thought of him. In a way, he was ferrying good people to their probable death; would he turn into Bun? Would Elizabeth have to make arrangements for him to be cared for the way she had poor brain-damaged Lieutenant Coughlin?

He felt someone behind him and looked up to see Rodney standing behind his chair, staring at the same monitors he was. He smiled up at him, and Rodney rested a hand first on the back of his chair, and then on his shoulder. He stood there a long time, until Radek said, "You know it will take hours," and began shooing people back to work, including Rodney, who looked at John from across the room before returning to his lab. John spun in the chair so he faced the monitors again, but he felt warmed. In the same day, he'd ruined his last pair of trousers, sent the strike force off, and reached some new and weird accord with Rodney.

Radek was right; it did take hours, but John felt he had to remain visible, and visibly calm. He sat in the Operations Center, working on performance evaluations, making notes for his aide to schedule interviews with his commissioned officers to review their personnel, and fiddling with a maths problem Radek had handed off to him one late night over tea and _hesha_.

The gate technician on duty pointed out to John when the team had jumped through the last stargate and began approaching the Hive ship. John paged Rodney and Elizabeth, who brought the rest of her team with her. Rodney brought Carson, who looked, John thought, terrible. He thought Carson might have been crying, but said nothing to him, feeling awkward. Rodney spun a chair across the aisle to sit next to John, bumping elbows as they leaned forward to look into the same monitor.

Everywhere in the city, John knew monitors were showing the silent progress of the four darts. He saw Elizabeth take Carson's hand, and Ronon stood close to him, as if he could physically protect Carson. Then Crown came in with Halling and Jinto; John knew Elizabeth must have asked them to come in from the mainland, where they had been working in the fields harvesting wheat. All three were sweaty and pink from the sun that John had forgotten was shining outside. All he'd been aware of was the desolate, illimitable night of deep space where the Hive ship appeared.

Halling began to chant very softly. Jinto looked angry. Radek put his arms around Elizabeth. Then everything went away for John, and he fell into that place he remembered from his experiences in Afghanistan. He was the aircraft, he was its motion, he was the sky it shot through and the fuel it burned and the weapons it fired. When Rodney took his hand, he gripped it tightly, grateful to be tugged back into the world. He was no longer the gun; he was the gunman. To be effective, he needed to remember that.

Silent, everything was silent. _In space, no one can hear you scream_, he thought, and even Atlantis was silent, hushed with expectation and foreboding. The signatures of the darts appeared tiny compared to the Hive ship, minuscule pinpoints that John suddenly regretted sending in what surely must be an impossible task. Nothing could kill something that huge. If the original Atlantians couldn't do it, how could they, puny creatures from Earth? We're only second best, he thought, pale copies of the giants that built this city, and even they had had to flee. His hand felt sweaty in Rodney's but he didn't let go; Rodney was keeping him here in Atlantis. He felt under water, under enormous pressure, too many atmospheres crushing him down, and then the darts dispersed, each to their assigned target. Had the Hive ship noticed they were not under the remote control that John had experienced the one time he'd flown a dart into a Hive? How sentient were those ships? Was it alerting its inhabitants even now?

Halling ceased chanting and the silence rose around John. He watched with the city as the sensors traced the path his friends and colleagues were taking, until they finally appeared merged with the Hive ship. For seconds he held his breath, then three broke free. The two dimensions of the monitor couldn't reveal the acrobatic feats that he knew the darts must be performing as they skimmed away, back to the last stargate. And then he could exhale: the Hive ship's avatar on the monitor began to tremble and flicker as the life-signs detector clicked down, and then he realized: Three. Only three darts.

He stood and turned to Rodney, whose face was red, staring in shock that this plan, so long in the making, had come to its fruition, whatever that might prove. In Rodney's wide eyes, John saw a tiny reflection of himself. He heard Elizabeth gasp, Halling and Jinto begin chanting again, Carson murmuring what might be a prayer, and Radek cursing in Czech. Another ten minutes passed, though, before Lorne's voice came crackling through the speakers. "It's down," he said; he sounded as though he'd been running, too, and not sitting invisibly by. "That fucker's down, but sir, John, Cadman, we lost Cadman --"

Carson cried out, "No! No, Mike, no." Ronon took Carson from Elizabeth and held him tightly; he didn't cry, but he panted wildly, his eyes rolling back. Rodney said into his mic, "Dr. Biro, to the Operations Center; now, Carolyn."

"Roger," John said to Lorne, because what else could he say? Rodney looked shocky; he and Laura had worked out an oddly satisfying relationship based on mutual insults and teasing over the years. John kept on hand on Rodney's shoulder, feeling him tremble as Carolyn raced into the room with two nurses following her. "Carson, oh, Carson," she said, slamming into him and Ronon, hugging him. "You come with me now, come on. Come on, Ronon, help me."

"Not my beautiful Laura," Carson whispered; John could see how hard he was shaking. "My good girl, my wife, my life, my darling girl, I didn't want her to go . . ."

John was grateful when Carolyn and Ronon got him out of the public area. Cadman had never said a word to him about Carson's feelings, nor had Carson asked him anything, but he couldn't help but know that they'd fought over his decision to send her. Atlantis was a very small city; everyone knew everybody's business.

He looked at Rodney, at his hand still clutching Rodney's shoulder. Well, that would be public knowledge, too. Rodney met his eyes and, as if he knew what John was thinking, put his own hand over John's. Another fragment of Earth fell away from John, another weight, another piece of his old self transformed into his new Atlantian self. "Fuck it," he whispered; Rodney's eyes widened even more, and then he smiled, shocking in this situation, but John felt an equally shocking answering smile. "Okay," Rodney kept saying, squeezing his hand. "Okay, we'll be okay." John had no idea what he was talking about, but he hoped he was right.

Captain Radner finally disturbed them. "I think you should talk to the men," he said into John's ear, and that was such a sound idea that John was ashamed he hadn't thought of it. "You talk to your people," John said to Rodney, who nodded. John ran his hands through his hair and went off to the ready room, where Radner and Crown had already collected everyone not on the mainland. John stood looking at them, thinking: I have never known people as well as I know these. I know every word they're going to say, and they know what I will say. Yet still they had to say it.

"You heard the news," he said. "The strike force succeeded, but we lost Captain Cadman. When Colonel Lorne returns, we'll learn the details, but we know she died trying to save Atlantis and our friends in this quadrant of the galaxy. It's our job to fight; that's why we're military, to save the civilians. That doesn't mean I want to lose anyone." Laura was good, he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. "She was a fine officer," he finally said. "She will be missed. I'll tell you more as news comes in."

He stared at them, wondering what was next. Almost a dozen of them had been trained to fly the darts; if another Hive ship entered sensor range, four of them would be going out as well. He had privately decided on only one mission per person, though he knew Teyla, especially, but also Stackhouse and Ochoa would try to argue with him. Standing there, he also knew that Cadman's loss hadn't really registered with him yet; he was too focused on the mission, on the safe return of the others, on his apprehension that another Hive ship would appear too soon, before they were ready, on whether this plan would work or would draw more and more destruction upon them until they, too, would disappear as completely as Cadman.

He sighed. "Dismissed," he said. "Be in the mess hall tonight at twenty-one hundred." Karen Rafiq would be there, and by then Lorne should be back.

And then, John thought, he and Rodney would go home together. "General Sheppard?" Lt. Coulter said. She was a friend of Cadman's, he knew, and her eyes were red, though she appeared calm. "Is it true?"

"We'll learn more when Colonel Lorne returns," he said. "But I think so. Lorne wouldn't -- he just wouldn't, if he weren't sure."

She nodded. "How's Dr. Beckett?"

He studied her, and then said, "He's with Dr. Biro in the infirmary. Would you, would you be comfortable seeing him? Helping him?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Then go. He'll need all our help."

She smiled sadly, tears filling her eyes. "He loved Laura so much," she said softly, as if not wanting anyone to overhear.

John nodded, crossing his arms. Carson had adored Laura; that was true. "Go," he said, and she nearly ran from the room.

Radner said, "We should do something."

"Later," John said. "We'll give her every honor we can, and make up a few more. But not now. I should. Lorne." He realized that Radner looked deeply unhappy, and that he'd been Laura's friend, too. Shit. "We will," he said firmly.

John thought it took the strike force longer to return home that it had to reach the ship they'd killed. He went to his office for a while and paced, then forced himself to the infirmary, where he found Carson loaded on something that left him silent and sad, staring into space. Carolyn Biro and Coulter were holding his hands, and Halling was chanting over him, while Karen Rafiq looked worried and unhappy. "Hey," he whispered to Carson, hugging him. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Carson sighed and looked at him, still silent. He felt too cool to John, as if he were back in Antarctica and not in the warm bosom of Atlantis. John wondered if he would recover, and how much he blamed himself for not solving the problem of how to use his retrovirus. How much he blamed John.

From there John went to the big lab where Rodney usually worked; he found all the scientists crowded there, with Radek talking quietly to them and Rodney listening. "We must continue our work," Radek was saying. "We must create more powerful toxins, more effective delivery systems. The information that Mike brings back will help us find better insertion points. We can't stop now, no matter how tired we are, no matter that we need other things, too. Rodney and I will work out new schedules; your department heads will help us divide your time between teaching, research, and working in the fields. We cannot let the military carry all the burdens. We are here to help them; that is our raison d'etre: to help them build a future for Atlantis. For our family and friends. For our home." Radek looked around at all of them, settling on John, who remembered that Radek had served in his country's Air Force. "John?" Radek said.

"I don't know anything more," he told them. "There will be a meeting in the mess hall at twenty-one hundred; I expect everyone to be there."

"How's Carson?" Rodney asked.

"Not doing well, but he's with friends, and we'll do what we can."

"She was nice," someone said. Leah Naveh, John thought her name was; the bee person. "I can't believe."

Dr. Kavanagh said, "Radek's right. We should work. We have no hope but what we make."

John felt his eyes widen; he didn't think he'd ever heard Kavanagh say anything helpful before. Maybe John wasn't the only person whom Atlantis had changed.

At that thought, he turned to Rodney, and they walked out of the lab, down the corridor, and out onto a balcony. The sun had just slid behind the curve of the world so, in the east, stars beginning to glimmer. They leaned against a railing, looking down at the south pier where the gardens were barely visible in the growing twilight. A scent of tomatoes rose up to them, reminding John of his mother's summer garden.

"Beautiful. Terrible," Rodney said.

"You're unusually succinct tonight."

"Hard to know what to say."

"Yeah." John sighed. Rodney moved slightly, so they were leaning together, their shoulders, forearms, and hips touching. John felt an almost electric shock run through him. This is an inappropriate time, he told himself, but it didn't matter to his body or his heart. Something had happened in the Operations Center, or maybe earlier in his quarters, or maybe years ago, when he first sat down in that chair and Rodney asked him, _Major, think about where we are in the solar system._ "What's going to happen?" he asked curiously.

"I think that'd be obvious," Rodney said, sounding more like his sarcastic self. "You have any real doubts, or just a last flair up of heteronormism?"

"Heteronormism? Is that what I'm experiencing? You've been talking to Rafiq, haven't you?"

"That's privileged; doctor-patient confidentiality and all that."

"Okay, let me ask this: Where are we in the solar system?"

Rodney laughed. "I was just remembering that. I'm not sure I know anymore." He turned to face John; despite the dusk, he was still vibrantly present, as warm as the sun, the sun around which John revolved. "That's not true. I know where I am, John," and the use of his given name sent another shock through John. "Do you?"

Rodney waited, breathing a little quickly, John thought. He felt that impossible smile grow and grow; he was impossibly happy at a horrific moment, and he didn't give a fuck. He leaned forward, pushing into Rodney almost aggressively, but typically Rodney didn't give an inch, he pushed back, he fought back, and John knew with heart-stopping certainty that they'd be doing this until one of them was gone, and the other would be as bereft as Carson was, sitting hopelessly in the infirmary. But he didn't care, he just fucking did not care that he was risking despair by loving Rodney. He grabbed Rodney, who seized him fiercely, and finally, years too late, they kissed, Rodney's mouth hot and sweet, eating John up. He used his mass to push John against the railing, and John let himself be pushed this time. He'd push back next time, but right now he was lost, not in battle, not in space, but in Rodney's arms. He felt Rodney's erection growing against his thigh and hipbone and he shuddered with a powerful desire.

Suddenly Rodney stopped and held him apart so he could say in the night, "I don't want to love you because you're gonna rip my heart out by dying too young. Promise me to try not to die too soon, okay? Give me a few years. I waited so fucking long for you." But he didn't let John answer; he kissed him again, and John held on just as aggressively, telling Rodney with his body that, yeah, he wanted a few good years, too.

They kissed and touched each other in the warm dark of an Atlantian autumn evening until Radner's voice spoke again into John's headset. "They're almost back," he murmured, as if he didn't want to disturb John.

"Roger," John said; "thanks, Amos." Rodney rested his head against John's cheek; he kissed the thinning hair, and sighed.

"Back to work," Rodney said, and they kissed, quickly and easily, and John had a vision of them kissing hello and goodbye through mornings and evenings and meetings and partings and, for a moment, he clung to Rodney's big shoulders. Then they walked together to the jumper bay, to meet their friends returned from death and victory.

The next few days moved both at the speed of light and glacially slow. Teyla, Stackhouse, and Ochoa all looked shocked, pale and trembling even hours after the attack. Biro stayed with Carson, so Cyndi and Hope, Carson's lead nurses, took care of them, even creating a secondary infirmary so they wouldn't intrude on Carson. Lorne walked right past John and into the midst of his family where he stood, surrounded by them, whispering words John didn't want to hear. Rodney's presence helped more than John wanted it to; he stayed right at John's side for the rest of the night. Amos Radner proved yet again that John had been right to promote him, remaining with them as he discreetly took notes while John questioned the survivors. Rodney also asked questions, and slowly Radek and Lorne began to respond with more energy. Radner began to move them toward the mess hall where people were already gathering, Atlantians and Athosians alike. Jenny Imoto and her crew had prepared vats of tea and hot cider, acres of little cookies, and mounds of warm _hesha_ scented the air, so John realized that, despite everything, he was hungry.

Rodney, of course, ate two-handedly, sprinkling crumbs as he gestured while questioning Radek and Stackhouse. John poured Mike a mug of hot cider and quietly asked him about Laura Cadman.

"I was close, sir," Lorne whispered, clutching his ceramic mug so tightly his knuckles whitened. "I stayed as close as I could. That insertion point was wrong, dead wrong." He paused. "Sorry, sir," he said even more softly. "Radek will have to go over the sensor data from the jumper, but it looked me like Laura just rammed the ship, nose first." He shook his head. "I don't understand. She was a good pilot, she knew what she was doing."

"We'll figure it out," John said. "Rodney and Radek, they'll figure it out. It won't happen again."

"Christ, I hope not," he said fervently, and sipped the hot cider. "Dr. Beckett?"

John shook his head. What could he say?

"Yeah. I kept -- I thought of Radek, and Ronon, and Elizabeth. I don't know what I would have done."

"Your job," John said, looking at Rodney. "It's what we do."

"Yes, sir."

"Better go to your family."

"Yes, sir," he said again, and slipped back to them. John went back to Rodney, taking a cookie from his left hand and listening to Ochoa say, "I never saw her; I was at the tail, in the ducts, and it worked like a charm; the AT-7 fired true, and the insertion point opened like _Open Sesame_." He sighed. "There wasn't an explosion or anything -- it just bounced a little bit and then the homing device pulled it straight in. Never saw anything like it."

"They were stupid to leave that signaling device on _that planet_," Rodney said. "It gave us the clue we needed for their homing signal that the general experienced." He gave John a fondly exasperated look.

"Do you think that's what happened to Cadman?" John asked him.

Rodney took a deep breath, looking away into space, eyes moving as if reading something. John remained quiet, giving him time and room to think while the room swirled like a spiral galaxy around them, voices rising and falling, some people crying, others looking angry and speaking hard words to each other. At last Rodney looked back at him. "Maybe," he said very quietly. He didn't look exasperated anymore; he looked sad and thoughtful. "That's where we'll start."

"Will more Hive ships come, General?" Diamond asked him, offering Rodney a plate of cookies.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know how often they communicate with each other, whether they form alliances or compete for resources."

"I hope they stay away," she said firmly. "We have things to do."

John nodded, watching Rodney. They did have things to do.

The working theory was that somehow the homing signal that had taken control of John's dart when he'd flown it for Ford had conflicted with the homing device in the weapon Cadman had carried and pulled her into the insertion point. The engineering team doubled their work hours, and they flew back to the planet where the strike force had left the darts to work with them, testing and re-testing their theories. In the meantime, everyone watched the long-range sensors compulsively; John arranged to have the results streamed so anyone could watch anywhere in the galaxy that the sensors reached.

The department heads met daily to go over the results, to make contingency plans, to prioritize tasks and assign duties. Radek and Rodney reported what they'd discovered, but they simply didn't know what happened to Cadman's dart. She was just dead.

Carolyn Biro took Carson's place at the meetings, assuming responsibility for the infirmary. She began working days but remained on call for nights. Their lead nurses were experienced, and Halling sent a healer from the mainland to work nights, Vesa, who moved into Atlantis with her young brother, Kender, who started working in the chemistry lab, helping maintain the equipment. Carson appeared like a ghost in the corridors, spending his time as a geneticist, not a physician, returning to his research on the ATA gene. John tried to spend time with him, but he was cold and remote, answering only direct questions. He had been friends with Rodney since Antarctica, but Rodney had little luck with him.

Karen Rafiq spent time with Rodney, trying to understand technically what had happened so she could explain it to others. "She's bright," Rodney told John, "and she means well, but there's nothing I can do. Just guess."

John nodded. Cadman's death was another weight on both him and Rodney, but what could they do? She'd wanted to fly the mission, and she'd been an excellent pilot. It had been his decision, though, not hers.

He was working in the greenhouse on the south pier, testing the pH of a batch of potting soil, when he heard someone enter the greenhouse. He looked up to find Carson. "Carson!" he said, wiping his hands. "God, it's good to see you. Let's sit," but Carson swung wildly at him.

John caught his fist, and pulled Carson to him. "Hey, hey," he whispered to the struggling man. "I'm sorry, Carson, I'm so fucking sorry." He wrapped his arms around Carson, though he did get knocked in the jaw when Carson tossed his head back. "Ow, fuck, hold still, dammit, Carson, come _on_," John panted. He couldn't even trigger his headset to call for Biro or Rodney. "Shit."

"She's dead," Carson whispered to him, stopping so suddenly that John staggered and nearly fell on top of him. "She's fucking dead."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Carson."

"She shouldn't have gone. We were trying to get pregnant, she could have _been_ pregnant, and now she's gone."

"Carson, please," John said, closing his eyes and holding Carson even tighter. "Please, please."

"Please what?" Carson shuddered in his arms. "I don't want to be here anymore, John. I can't look at you, I can't look at Lorne or Elizabeth, I can't stand it here."

"Do you want to move to the mainland? We could do that. Anything, you know that."

He sighed and rested his head against John's shoulder, but didn't say anything more. After a moment, John half carried him to a stool and sat, holding Carson carefully, then clicked on his mic. "Carolyn? In the greenhouse at the south pier, please."

Carson sighed again. "I miss me mum," he whispered. "I miss Laura. I miss my lab in Glasgow, and Earl Grey, and mum's scones, and porridge for breakfast. I don't want to be here anymore."

"I know," John said.

"No, you don't," Carson said sadly. "Everyone you love is here."

Carson was right. John loved it here, and he was loved here. If the stargate suddenly opened and Earth invited them back, he'd stay. Unless Rodney went, but John didn't think he'd go, either. Not now. Not anymore. This was home.

Teyla was the first to arrive. She looked sadly at John and Carson, then took Carson's hands. "I grieve with you, dear friend," she said softly, and rested her forehead against his. Carson exhaled deeply, and began to cry. John held him tighter, and Teyla put her hands on his face, looking so tenderly at him that tears came to John's eyes as well. Then Carolyn arrived, and Karen, and Elizabeth, and finally Rodney, red faced and wide eyed. John released Carson to the women, and stood with Rodney, amid the seedlings and richly scented soil. Rodney put his arm around John's waist, and his heart seized with gratitude that Rodney still lived, still loved him.

"Come on," Rodney said, urging John out into the cold sunshine.

"We have to do something," John said. "Send him to mainland, something. Look how thin he is."

"We'll talk to Karen and Carolyn later. Right now, let's get out." He led John through the raised garden beds mounded with leaves to protect against the cold. John looked over his shoulder at where Carson stood, embracing Karen, weeping openly. "Don't you fucking feel guilty," Rodney said. "Laura wanted to go. She was a soldier. Don't forget: she lived in my head for days. I knew how determined she was. She died to protect Carson and the rest of us."

John didn't have an answer, because it was true. It could easily have been him; he had done similar things. Why had Laura died, but not him? Was that even a question that could be asked? John knew Rodney well enough to know that he'd say no, it couldn't be. It just was: like entropy, and gravity, and the blue of the Atlantian ocean. It just was.

That evening, Teyla came to them. "We will take Carson to the settlement," she told them. "Halling and Vesa think he will recover there more quickly, away from all these reminders."

"How are you, Teyla?" John asked.

She sat next to him, graceful and lithe despite her burdens. "I am well, John. I miss Laura, and I grieve for her, but I was there. I trained with her. She was a happy person, and she loved her work. She would be deeply unhappy that Carson does not understand."

"Tell him," Rodney said.

"In time," she said, smiling at him. "He will come to understand. But John," she added. "You are blaming yourself for Carson's grief; I see this in your face." He tried to smile at her, but had to look away from her steady gaze. Rodney leaned against him. "This you must not do. If blame is to be laid, it must be on the Wraith. Only they bear this responsibility."

"She's right," Rodney said into his ear, and kissed his neck.

John had a moment of panic, that Rodney had kissed him in front of Teyla, but he forced himself to remain calm. Teyla had known for as long as John had, maybe longer, that he loved Rodney. She wouldn't judge him. She had already proven that.

"Thank you, Teyla," he finally said, and leaned back into Rodney's embrace. It suddenly occurred to him that Carson was a widower, but that he was a married man. With her usual grace, Teyla patted his hand, rose, and vanished down the corridor. John turned to face Rodney.

"What do you think of that joining ceremony?" he asked almost conversationally. Rodney's eyes widened, and he slowly smiled at John. Behind them, John heard someone else come into the room; they were just in a smallish room that had been turned into a library, nothing private, but he bent forward and kissed Rodney, their arms slipping around each other. What did it matter? He didn't care anymore. He could be as dead as Cadman any minute; they all could be.

When they stopped kissing, Rodney flushed and happy, Rodney said, "Finally succumbed to my irresistible animal magnetism, eh? I'll schedule something. Any preference when?"

"Any time, Mrs. Sheppard."

Rodney rolled his eyes, but only whispered, "Let's go consummate this relationship, Mrs. McKay."

~ ~ ~

John was sitting in his office staring at a half-done report about the last planet his team had visited, trying to find words to describe their experience there, when Lt. Alston called him to the jumper bay. Elizabeth's team had left only a few hours earlier, back to Planet Puke for their regular supply run. Almost immediately after gating out, Elizabeth's team returned, and by the time John reached the bay, he could hear them, Radek white-faced and shouting, Ronon half-carrying him. In Lorne's arms, John saw, was a ZPM.

"Fully charged," Radek kept saying. "It's fully charged. Where's Rodney? Fully charged."

Elizabeth was weeping and laughing at the same time. "You and Rodney," she said, wiping her eyes. "It was you and Rodney."

Rodney raced in, seized Radek from Ronon's arms, and spun him in a circle before snatching the ZPM from Lorne. "Come on, come _on_," he shouted. "Wasting power as we speak." They ran to the ZPM outlet room, gathering people as they went. Over John's headset he could hear the excited shouts of others as word spread. Teyla was already in the room when they arrived. He found he could barely breathe.

Though the room and surrounding corridors were crowded, everyone fell silent as Rodney carried the ZPM to the central outlet. He paused for a moment, looking around until he met John's eyes. John smiled and nodded, and then Rodney slotted the ZPM into a vacant receptacle. They watched as it slid down and began to glow.

There was a pause, and then a deep vibration rumbled beneath his feet. A gust of sweet-smelling air flooded the chamber, as if Atlantis had taken her first deep breath in millennia, and then all the lights brightened. "Shields," Radek said, and left. "Cloak," Lorne said, and he followed. John walked to Rodney.

"I don't know what to do," Rodney whispered. John patted his shoulder, but he didn't know, either. Over his headset, he could hear Radek and Lorne talking, and then Dr. Bryce, and Kavanagh, and other voices, all speaking over each other so rapidly that he could no longer identify them. It was a chorus of thanksgiving.

Elizabeth and Ronon approached them. "You did it," Ronon said, looking pleased.

"I don't understand," Rodney said. "We haven't been back in years. What did we do?"

"Vomit," John reminded him.

"Yes, I remember, and it was impressive, I'm sure, but did it warrant a ZPM?"

"It was what you revealed in your dreams," Elizabeth said; she looked pretty damn pleased as well. "Arien said they rarely experience the power that you willingly gave them. Apparently they've been discussing your dreams for all these years, and finally decided that the ZPM was the only thing valuable enough to equal what you'd given them."

"I'm confused," Rodney announced, sounding irritated. "What did we give them? Our dreams? Do they possess technology to see our dreams? And why does dreaming about my sister warrant a ZPM?"

"Rodney, I told you it was very nice. I mean, you dreamt about my mom. There's no reason --"

"Gentlemen." Elizabeth raised her hands. "I don't know what you dreamt, and I'm not going to ask. We were told that you gave them profound knowledge of not only who we are as a people, but who you are as individuals. They say that we're lucky to have you, which I already knew." She beamed at them. "Whatever you dreamt, however unpleasant the drug was, you brought Atlantis new hope. Thank you." She hugged them both, and then Ronon hugged them, his beard tickling John's neck. Then they left, Elizabeth talking excitedly and Ronon listening.

"What'd we do?" John asked in the suddenly empty room.

Rodney shrugged. "Dreams. I wouldn't have thought -- well. Well. We have a ZPM, General! A fully-powered one! In conjunction with the partially-powered one we already have, we can hide and we can fight. We can even submerge Atlantis if we need to. We have choices I never dreamt we'd have."

"I bet you have."

"Well, yes, but now I need to get back to the labs."

"Do you have to get there this minute?" He and Rodney stared at each other; John wondered if his smile was as stupid as Rodney's.

"Ah, no, actually." He grabbed John's hand and pulled him away, walking briskly. "You really have some good ideas occasionally."

"Well, we should celebrate, don't you think?"

"It should be Mardi Gras, Carnivale, Bastille Day, Boxing Day, Canada Day, Tet, and the Fourth of July all at once."

"We'll call it Atlantis Day."

Rodney looked at John over his shoulder. "Right now," he said in a low voice that made John shiver and grin. "Right now, we're gonna call it _fuck day_."

"You do say the sweetest things."

By now they were nearly running through the corridors, past laughing people, music pouring from a hundred speakers, different songs, different dances, the scent of cider and beer, and of dope, smoke wafting above their heads. Rodney never let go of John as people pounded them on their backs, shouting at them, laughing and crying.

When they reached their quarters, he spun Rodney around, shoving him against the doors to kiss, then slid down his body, opening the drawstring to his trousers, pulling out Rodney's already hardening cock to suck while Rodney gasped and shouted. "Get up, get up," Rodney scolded, grabbing his arm. "You know your knees will ache for a week." They awkwardly undressed each other as they wove across the room, aiming toward the big bed that they'd designed and had commissioned from Parker. Rodney pushed him onto his back and fit himself carefully between John's legs. He'd lost a lot of weight these years in a _free and independent Atlantis_, but he was stronger than ever, working out with Ronon, Mike, and John, and John knew he was in for it now, so he lay back and let Rodney move him as he wanted, all his intellect and attention focused on John's body.

"Love this, love fucking you," Rodney whispered, "I love your body and your mouth and your dick and you, and you," he murmured on and on, never stopping no matter how hard they fucked, or how gently.

And John loved it, too. With Rodney on him, over him, in him, John knew where he was in the solar system. He was home; he was finally home.

* * *

**The Awful Loneliness**

Rodney found Elizabeth on the east pier hanging laundry. He watched for a moment as she looped sheets and shirts to the long cords that Alex had strung diagonally across the area. Ronon was also hanging clothes, as were Minnie Munroe, the tall hydrologist, and Apple Pibulsonggram, their plumber. The long rows of damp clothes fluttered in a strong breeze. Rodney liked the smell line-drying gave his sheets, as well as the undulations of the clothing waving in the frictional drag of the wind.

Ronon silently passed him a basket of wet clothes. "Okay, okay," he said, and began to shake out a pair of someone's drawers. He thought about teasing Elizabeth about spending her time hanging out laundry, but it might be time to retire that joke. She enjoyed doing it, believed she should work as hard as anyone in Atlantis, and it did save energy. Besides, it was a beautiful day and he enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air.

When the last pair of socks had been hung and the baskets gathered and stacked, Ronon kissed Elizabeth, gave Rodney a look, and followed the others indoors. Elizabeth leaned against the railing of the pier, her back to the sun, watching them. "What can I do for you, Rodney?" she asked when they were alone.

"Madame President," he began, knowing it would make her smile and wanting that for a few more minutes. "I wanted to let you know that at this afternoon's department meeting, Radek and I will announce that it's time to resume trying to attract the Hive ship."

He watched as her smile faded, the lines around her mouth and eyes deepening. She pushed her hair off her forehead and nodded. "Thank you," she said, resting her hand on his forearm. "Good work."

He shrugged. "Just steady and determined; no acts of genius required for this task." He hesitated and then asked, "Are you sure, Elizabeth? Maybe we should just continue to hide."

"For how long?" He had no answer. They could be taken so easily. How many worlds had they visited that were completely emptied of life? More than he wanted to believe possible. He remembered how crowded Earth had been, cities overflowing, countrysides eaten up by starving masses. But at least there were no Wraith.

Elizabeth took his hand. "Rodney, you always have _something_ to say."

"We should go in; I don't know about you, but I have work to do. One of Sheppard's minions drove a MALP into a flooded portion of the city for some reason. Moving supplies, he said, but I think they were out joyriding, the idiots."

Lorne was there when Rodney arrived, supervising the removal of the MALP from the water; it was nearly submerged. "We should pump this section out," Radek was saying. "No reason to have water here. Not healthy."

Minnie was there, too, nodding. "Standing water and all that," she said. "Mike, can I have some of your men for the heavy lifting? I'll get it out, Radek. You have more important work."

"Yes, he does," Rodney said. "Now, everyone, back to work, let Minnie take care of this. Lorne, I have an idea." He touched Mike's elbow and drew him away from the noise of the recovery. "We're so busy surviving that we're not having much fun; I think that's a problem for your people. My staff know how to, ah --"

"Wreak havoc," Mike said dryly. "Whereas mine just cause trouble?"

"Let's figure out something. Football, either kind, something that'll wear them out and keep them talking. Maybe even offer them a betting pool."

Mike nodded. "I like it. I'll talk to Sheppard, come up with something. What do your guys do?"

"Well, there are various poker nights, you know, and then movie night, and then Simpson runs a discussion each week on linear partial differential operators. Let's see, Brennan O'Farrell meets with a group reading _Ulysses_, Clara Dubail is teaching a French class --"

"Okay, point taken," Mike said, holding up his hand. "I'll get on it. French class, eh? Dr. Dubail is a beautiful woman. Think she'd teach my men?"

Rodney shrugged. Clara was very pretty and, in his opinion, a bit vain. She'd probably love having a bunch of marines or whatever stare at her for an hour twice a week. "Je ne sais pas. Demandez-lui."

"Uh, okay. Thanks, Rodney."

Rodney hurried back to his labs, feeling quite pleased with himself for dredging up what little French he remembered. He wanted to talk with Radek before this afternoon's meeting, go over their team's results again.

The department meeting went as well as Rodney could have hoped. When John slapped the table and assumed responsibility for the decision, Rodney had a hard time restraining himself, but he knew from experience he had more effect on Sheppard when they were alone, so he bit his tongue and looked away, not catching Radek's anxious eyes. Sheppard went off with Lorne after the meeting, though, so Rodney stood quietly in the emptying conference room, watching everyone recede from him. Elizabeth was the last to leave; she lightly touched his elbow, that carefully non-sexual gesture of comfort she used too often these days.

"Take a break, Rodney," she said. "You and your staff have done magnificent work. You can rest now."

He gave her a look that he knew wasn't kind or polite, but silence was becoming easier for him, so he moved away from her, out into the Operations Centre, looking around at it as if it were their first day in Atlantis. How long ago that seemed, yet just like yesterday, the lights flickering on, the doors swinging open, welcoming them. Welcoming Sheppard was more like it, he thought, and despite himself he smiled. Well, who wouldn't welcome Sheppard into his life?

He decided to follow Sheppard, try to separate him from Lorne, but that was unnecessary; Sheppard was alone in his office, diligently reading something that wasn't a book or a comic book. Rodney stood in the doorway watching him. Sheppard looked tired, and thin, and dark from working outdoors, but they all did, that was their new default setting; even Rodney's pale skin had turned a pinkish gold that he enjoyed after so many years of working underground or in the polar regions.

Without raising his head, Sheppard said, "Somethin' I can do for you, Rodney?"

"Yes, actually, I heard from Corrigan who heard from Glezakos that Diamond made an enormous batch of _broc hesha_, and it's due to come out of the oven right about now."

"_Broc_, huh. That's the --"

"Purple berry, taste like figs, no seeds, no citrus, just delicious, so come on, hurry up, let's go before Ronon the Barbarian gets there."

"I've talked to you about calling Ronon that," Sheppard scolded, but Rodney was happy to see him shut his laptop and stand, stretching his back.

"You need a haircut," Rodney said abruptly, staring at Sheppard. "And don't say anything about my hair or I'll hurt you."

Sheppard laughed, and Rodney swore the lights in his office brightened. "Come on, Rodney. Diamond never makes enough of that stuff."

Rodney did love _hesha_. Diamond's pastry was light and incredibly flaky, like phyllo, and it melted in Rodney's mouth. He found himself eating it with his eyes closed, moaning. "Jesus, Rodney," Sheppard said. _Hesha_ was scored into long rectangles, meant to be broken off and eaten by hand, so when Rodney opened his eyes to find Sheppard staring at him, he dipped one end of the fragile rectangle into a bowl of whipped cream and lifted it to Sheppard's mouth. He discovered he was breathing rapidly, watching Sheppard's lips. After a heartbeat's hesitation, Sheppard took Rodney's hand and guided the _hesha_ into his mouth. His eyelids fluttered shut, too, and he licked his lips. Rodney wanted to groan at the sight.

Well, that was worth the effort it took to round up Sheppard, Rodney thought. And maybe it mellowed Sheppard out a bit when the next day he had to watch Lorne fly back to _that planet_ with Cadman, Radek, and Ronon to start luring in Wraith darts so they could shoot them down. Or maybe the prospect of training others how to fly the rehabilitated darts made up for it in some small way. Whatever, Sheppard kept as busy as Rodney, who saw him at meals and meetings and in the gateroom when Lorne and the others returned.

When Sheppard finally took Elizabeth and Karen's advice and restructured the military presence in Atlantis, Rodney participated eagerly. He thought of it as re-engineering not just to improve efficiency, though he certainly thought it would, but also morale. He knew to keep his scientists and support staff busy -- why else did he spend so much time roaring at their ineptitude? Sheppard was so laid back; it probably never occurred to him, no, that wasn't fair, Rodney knew. Sheppard did pay attention to duty rosters and his men's behaviour. The horrible Jackson and Kendricks, for example; Sheppard and Lorne had worked hard to keep them under control. What assholes they were, chasing that pretty Lt. Coulter around. She was as tough as Cadman, but two against one weren't good odds for anyone. So Sheppard promoted just about everybody but those two, for all the good that did. And when he'd changed the rules so they were more like the Canadian Forces and permitted same-sex marriage, oh, fuck. Rodney shook his head at the memory. Why couldn't the _Daedalus_ have returned one more time so they could have been sent back?

Assholes.

At any rate, there now existed the Atlantian Forces, created with Rodney's enthusiastic assistance. He had hesitated to remove the Canadian flag from the shoulder of his jacket even though he'd voted both times in favour of a free and independent Atlantis, but when the new General Sheppard had turned up without the US flag on his jacket, Rodney had immediately noticed, and that night removed his as well. "What the hell," he'd said, staring at it, small and weathered in his hand, and then stuck it in a drawer.

He was an Atlantian now, and happy to be one when he thought about it, which mostly he didn't. Life went on almost identically to life at any remote installation: Area 51, Siberia, Antarctica. He could still make a mistake and blow up the solar system; he could make no mistakes and die because of the Wraith. He'd long ago learned to focus on his work; it was the rocket ship that took him out of the gravity well of himself and his fears and neuroses and into some ineffable transcendence of pure thought and pure pleasure. Rodney would feel as though he were being woken from a dream when Sheppard would put his hand on Rodney's back, calling him back to some meeting or off-world mission or a run through the corridors of their city. Their city of Atlantis.

Those were the times that he would feel the weight of Sheppard's gaze on him, reeling him back, and he'd look up to find Sheppard lounged against the bench he was working at, arms folded, head slightly tilted. "Hey. Dinner?" Sheppard might say, and Rodney would reply, "Didn't I just eat? Look at this, Kavanagh was working on it; someday I want to see his diploma because I simply don't believe his degree is in physics."

"Say goodnight, Rodney," Sheppard might say, and wrap his hand around Rodney's wrist, shutting Rodney up, drying his mouth, and then he'd lead Rodney to dinner, to a meeting, to the Observation Centre, to wherever John wanted.

When the Atlantian Forces had been operating for a few weeks under their new regulations, Radek had come to Rodney, almost in tears. "Thank you," he'd whispered, patting Rodney's hands, then taking them in his own. "I just -- it means so much to me, Rodney, what you did. You pretend to be the bad man, but you are deeply good."

"What?" Rodney thought Radek must be drunk; his English was better than this.

"For Mike, Lorne, you know that we, that he and I --"

"Too much information!" Rodney had roared, clapping his hands over his ears in embarrassment. Radek stared up at him and Rodney saw with horror that there were actually tears in his eyes. "Um," he said faintly. "Sure. I'm happy for you two."

"Four."

"For being together."

"No, for the four of us. Four. Mike, Ronon, Elizabeth, and me."

The image that came to Rodney's mind of the four of them in bed together, twisting in some sexual Moebius, nearly whited out all thoughts. "Wow," he said. "Just, wow." He focused on Radek wondering how the hell he fit into the Laocoönian puzzle -- who put what where, and how, and how often? "Wow," he said again, and Radek glared at him.

"I wished to thank you, but now? Not so much."

"No, congratulations. Really." He shook his head and tried to hide his smile. "I knew you had a crush on Elizabeth, and I was pretty sure about your feelings for Ronon, but Lorne?"

"I thought you knew," Radek said. "I should remember that you pay no attention except to your work and your stomach."

"Hey, that's not fair, although actually it is probably true. Still. Really, Radek. Congratulations. I'm glad this makes things better for you. I'm a bit envious."

Radek grudgingly nodded at him.

"So, are there, like, other foursomes? Or threesomes, for that matter?"

"Go, work," Radek said. "Thank you, but I am not here to support your porn habit."

"Porn habit," he muttered, but the idea of Radek having sex with two other men and a woman _was_ pornographic. He hitched uncomfortably at his trousers. He had noticed something and had been confident what was going on, but now that he knew for sure, he'd never be able to see any of them in the same way. Next department meeting, he found himself hopelessly distracted, so much so that Carson insisted he stop by the infirmary and let one of the nurses check his blood sugar and pressure. Because he was too embarrassed to admit why he couldn't focus, he obeyed; Sheppard met him in the corridor outside as he was leaving.

"Right as rain," Nurse Nancy or whatever her name was told him. "Though your blood pressure is still a bit high. You need more regular exercise."

"I get plenty of exercise," Rodney complained, but then Sheppard caught his eye. "Well, I do," he said to Sheppard. "Out in the fields three days a week, following you through the stargate at least once a week. Exercise is hardly an issue."

"I'll take care of this," Sheppard told the nurse, who simpered at him. Rodney glared at her, and wondered what would happen if _he_ simpered at Sheppard.

They walked silently for a while, then Rodney said softly, "Did you, ah, have you learned anything interesting since you repealed Don't Ask, Don't Tell?"

"Masturbation fantasies for a month," Sheppard replied just as softly, and they laughed. Sheppard slapped his back. "Radek tell you?"

"Yes, and I told him I hadn't a clue about Lorne. For a change, he seemed to believe me, the little prick."

"Wants to believe you. I told Lorne we already knew."

"Did you? Know?"

"Come _on_, Rodney. How could you _not_ know?"

"Um. Elizabeth's a lucky woman," he finally said, and tried not to notice Sheppard's ass as he walked away.

Sheppard's gaze, though, Rodney was always aware of. Sheppard was a pilot and knew how to focus, despite the casual flyboy persona he shrugged into like a jacket; he knew how to focus and Rodney rejoiced in being the frequent object of that intense and _accurate_ focus. So when Sheppard paused and twisted back, Rodney wasn't surprised when he raised his eyes to find Sheppard's smirk. Sheppard tipped a finger at him, a nonchalant salute, and left.

"You are a little in love with death," he murmured, and hurried back to his lab, happy to return to a domain he could control.

So that was that, Rodney thought when he carefully lay down that night. The die was cast. His back ached from peering into monitors while tapping at keyboards and it often took a few minutes for the kinks in his muscles to relax enough to lie flat. The lights dimmed as he relaxed; when he closed his eyes, he saw again Sheppard and Elizabeth signing the new Atlantian Forces military policy, a half- inch thick document based in part on Canada's Bill C-243 and Bill C-33.

And now he was watching the changes ripple throughout Atlantis. Radek's sudden happiness, Lorne's shy smile, Elizabeth dancing in a field while her men -- her husbands, Rodney guessed -- danced around her. There were others, too, but not many; after all, Atlantis was a very small town. But Rodney thought the percentage would grow, and would be higher than he was accustomed to. Freedom was like that: invite it into one room of your home, and pretty soon it had the furniture on the street and the walls knocked down and skylights opening in the ceiling, and finally, finally, you had room to be who you really were.

He rolled onto his side, sighing, and relaxed into sleep.

At a department meeting, Teyla and Halling proposed that the Atlantians join with the Athosians in celebrating seasonal festivals. Rodney at first thought it was the stupidest idea he'd heard since he'd left Earth. Predictably, Carson and Karen liked it, and even Radek expressed interest. Less predictably, Sheppard said, "Why not? We work hard; there should be some reward."

He looked at Rodney as he spoke, as he often did. Rodney opened his mouth to object with some snide quip, but found himself sinking back into his seat. "Why not?" he finally said, and looked at Elizabeth.

She was smiling warmly. "I think it's an excellent idea. Thank you, Teyla; thank you, Halling. When's our next holiday?"

Rodney shook his head. A holiday from death, from the Wraith, from the endless work of farming, of turning their produce into meals and clothing and toothpaste and whatever the hell they turned it into. A holiday from reality. "Yeah," he said. "When's the next date?"

Halling smiled warmly at him. "We have learned the seasons of this new world: seeding, growing, sowing, sleeping. Sleeping is the time of lying fallow, of nourishment and replenishment. When I was a boy, we celebrated this at the turning by spending the night together, not sleeping, but dancing and telling stories."

"And that's what next?" Carson asked. Halling nodded. "Then let's celebrate. Elizabeth, everyone is exhausted. We work so hard, every last one of us."

Rodney nodded to himself. They'd all lost weight; they all were aging. He was losing his hair, and had to hold his head up or he'd see his father's double chin on his own face. Sheppard was graying, his face thinner than when Rodney had first seen him seated in that chair, his nose sharper, his cheekbones more prominent.

"Then we shall join," Halling said, "city and mainland, sea and shore, at the turn of sleeping."

"A marriage!" Elizabeth said, smiling. "This is a good note to end our meeting on, people. Let's organize. Halling?"

"Teyla and I shall start. It will be an honor to join with your people."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, and the others echoed her.

"Thank you, Teyla," Rodney said, catching her as they filed out. "I'm not sure what's going to happen, but maybe a party is what we need."

Teyla smiled up at him, sad and sweet and remote. "We have much to celebrate, Rodney. I hope you will come."

"Oh, he will," Sheppard said, resting a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I'll make sure of that."

"As will I," Radek said. "But now? He must come with me. Rodney, your class?"

"Shit." He grabbed his notes; he was prepared, but he didn't like to be late. It encouraged tardiness in his students.

"What are you teaching, Rodney?" Teyla asked him.

"The efficient coupling of atoms and light," he said as he hurried past her. "It's an analysis of the storage media used by the Ancients." He rushed through the Operations Centre toward the section of Atlantis they'd refurbished into classrooms. He loved teaching; he loved being in front of the class, demanding total attention, delighting in opportunities to surprise.

"Open your computers," he said as he strode into the classroom, only a bit out of breath. "No, _open_ them, pop off the keyboards, turn them over and unscrew the back, let's take a look at what's inside. What's this?" he said, snatching up a crystal from Halla's.

"A crystal," she said promptly, and everyone laughed.

"Oh, funny, funny. But what _is_ it?" He held it above his head; lightweight and elegant and alien and wonderful. "Be honest! What is it?"

"I don't know," Tanner said, and Rodney smiled.

"And that, young man, is the beginning of wisdom. Now, let's start with what we do know. Who made this?"

"The Ancients," they said in unison.

"Why?"

"For power."

"And how does it work?"

After a pause, Halla ventured, "Uh, a piezo-crystal resonator?"

"Very good. Now, let's take that word apart and see what it means," Rodney said, and he felt a rush of such pleasure that he wondered whether Atlantis had just rewarded him. God, he loved this. Maybe this is what he'd been working for all these years: not just to live and work in Atlantis, not just to save the city and its inhabitants, but to design a permaculture that would thrive, and to leave a legacy that others would use as a lever to better understand the universe.

Or maybe he just loved to torment students, he thought, smiling even harder.

Rodney liked this new life. It was a hard life, and busy, but he never had a moment of boredom. Working on the mainland in the fields and orchards, on the west pier in the gardens, in his lab, in the classroom, in meetings, and off-world on first-contact missions -- he found a lurching rhythm to his days that he'd never experienced before.

In the years after the loss, he watched his colleagues change: Zelenka grew accustomed to going off-world with his team, Kavanagh grew almost bearable in his dedication to managing the city, Cadman became less an irritant and more of a friend. And Sheppard became General Sheppard, who had to scrounge reading glasses from the skua box outside the mess hall, where people left things they no longer used. Rodney had never been closer to another human being than he grew to John Sheppard, and in a city as small as Atlantis, that meant he could read John's mood by the set of his shoulders or the angle of his head. He'd never known anyone as well as he knew these people, nor had he ever cared as much for so many. But especially and always for John.

He watched Sheppard watch the others: Carson and Laura's marriage was the first after they'd lost contact. Rodney had been Carson's best man, with Halling and a very pregnant Elizabeth presiding. That had been Laura's request, that they join in the Athosian way, and thus was precedent set. Sheppard had seemed sad to Rodney at that first wedding, and he'd often wondered why. He felt only relief to have Cadman become Carson's responsibility. Maybe it was the symbolism of being the first after the loss, without benefit of license, or permission from anybody other than John for Cadman, or that it was done on the mainland in the Athosian way. That was the first time he'd danced with John, too; shyly and awkwardly in the dusk, surrounded by their friends.

But that was old news now; they'd married off lots of people, and once Sheppard had come to his senses about the antiquated military regulations, people joined in more combinations than there were combinations of quarks -- mesons, baryons, and pentaquarks -- and in as many flavours.

Now, years later, they were no safer but more settled, and he watched the inhabitants of Atlantis as they strolled through the corridors of their home and gossiped about the next election, about the quality of fabric traded for their apple cider, about the latest vid shown on movie night, about work and play and love and babies and divorce and feuds and recriminations and reconciliations. Rodney paid more attention to his surroundings than he ever had on Earth, because Sheppard quizzed him for his opinion and advice and he wanted to have an intelligent response.

With Sheppard, he attended concerts in Atlantis, on the mainland, and on other worlds, where he might hear _Appalachia Waltz_, or Edward Elgar's _Cello Concerto_, or watch the Manaran's dance form they called _fall away_, which was something like ballet and Thai _lakhon rong_, or the Ephesian's giant puppets, or the Planet with the Shouting Men's shouting contests. They sat as part of audiences in their own mess hall, in sunlit glades, in stone amphitheatres, in rooms carved from living rock, and once like birds in trees that bent gracefully under their weight and surged with their applause.

One off-world mission took them to M6L-843, a stony world of deep chasms carved by flashfloods. The Ancient's database indicated that the inhabitants had been prosperous fabricators of ceramics; Radek had requested ceramic substrates and components for the new version of the PDA his team was developing. Sheppard had flown the puddlejumper over hanging valleys and transtensional pull-apart basins, over red lava flows and white alluvium.

"Nobody, nobody, and nobody," Rodney pointed out, peering through the windshield. "Maybe they were culled. Maybe the climate changed and they left."

"And maybe somebody's home after all," Sheppard said, nodding toward the left.

Rodney saw another narrow canyon; at its bottom a thin ribbon of river glinted. The canyon walls were dusted with snow, but the far wall had something marring its regularity. "What is that?" Rodney asked. "Is that a cliff dwelling of some sort?"

"Of some sort," Sheppard agreed. "Teyla, Ronon, you ever hear of this?"

They crowded into the front, Ronon stooping over Rodney to see better. "Yeah," he said. "Thought it was an old wives' tale."

"Old wives are often wise," Teyla said mildly. "What did you hear?"

"The temple suspended over the void," Ronon said. "Very holy place. Faith keeps it up."

"Then I'm not going," Rodney said, but he was curious. What the hell kept it hanging above the valley like that? "Look," he said suddenly. "It's on stilts."

"Stilts," Sheppard said. "This I gotta see." He flew the jumper with such grace, Rodney thought enviously. He could fly in a straight line these days, but he knew he'd never develop the kind of unconscious control that John naturally had. They set down as lightly as the best _hesha_ crust, and stepped out into gelid air under overcast skies. The only sounds were theirs, the river, and soft bells ringing above them. Ronon began walking, and Rodney saw there was a path worn into the rock that led to steps carved out of the walls. Teyla followed him. He and John glanced at each other and then Rodney followed Teyla, with John at the rear.

The narrow path narrowed further, and then became a hanging walkway. I have claustrophobia, not acrophobia, Rodney reminded himself, panting, but they were climbing quickly and when they reached the temple, he saw that the void they were suspended over was at least fifty metres. "Jesus," he murmured, drawing away from the edge.

He thought at first that it was deserted; abandoned by sensible people, but surely they wouldn't have left such beautiful statues as they found in the courtyard they walked through. The clay, he thought, staring at one. This is what they do with the raw material: turn it into these things.

"They're beautiful," John said into his ear, and Rodney nodded. He felt the quiet as a gentle command, and noticed Teyla and Ronon whispering to each other. Ronon had said this was a holy place; maybe he was right.

From the courtyard they entered a narrow hall; along the cliff-side were more statues, some as small as children's toys, others knee- and waist-high, and one as tall as Ronon, wearing a deep red robe. Rodney had been in the Pegasus Galaxy long enough to know that a red that colour wasn't easily obtained and so meant its wearer was a person of significance. The statue stared back at them with dark eyes; its hair looked like ceramic corn rows, and it stretched out one open hand to them, palm up. All four of them paused to study it.

Bells rang softly above them, and John said, "I hear chanting." He urged them on, deeper into the temple, through another courtyard, more rooms, and finally into a cave that had been dug back into the cliff face. There, thirty or so people sat, chanting quietly, not in unison, but individually. They were as dark as Ronon, with their hair in the same corn rows that the statue had worn. The room was no warmer than outdoors, yet they looked comfortable sitting on the cold stone floor dressed in light yellow robes.

One of them looked up when Rodney and his team entered. He smiled at them, the gap-toothed smile of a poor people, and rose, bowing to them. Rodney bowed back, and John whispered to him, "Can we talk to whoever is in charge?"

The fellow spread his hands, smiling. "Who is in charge? In charge of what? The world is as it is, and we love it."

Rodney refrained from rolling his eyes or making a comment; he left this kind of thing to Teyla and John who had the knack for it. Teyla said, "Then perhaps you can help us. We have come in the hopes of trading for your clay. We understand it is of very high quality. We can trade medical care, food, or labour."

"Ah, the clay, yes. You want to speak with the potter." He turned and went to another man chanting, bending over to whisper to him. The other man stood and they walked back, hand in hand, smiling at them.

"I am Bell the potter," he said, bowing. "And this is my friend Drum. My mother was the potter here for many years, and now I have that honour. How may I help you?"

"We have heard about the quality of your clay," Teyla said again, "and have come in the hopes of trading for it."

Bell beamed at them. "Yes, it is the finest material. It is a grace to work with it, to feel it slip between my fingers. To watch it grow into pots and plates and cups and even the little gods you see is the goal of many. I would be happy to help you." He slid past them back into the courtyard. When they stood around him, he pointed up the canyon. "Do you see where the snow lies heaviest next to the water? There is an ancient tree, a kristal leaf. There you will find the finest clay. I go there twice a year with my friends and apprentices to dig."

"Can we -- what can we give you for the clay?" John asked.

Bell looked surprised. "But the clay is not mine to trade. It is this world's."

"But you use it. It's important to you, right?" Rodney said, uncomfortable with just taking the stuff. "You should ask us for something." Feeling clever, he added, "It is our way."

Bell and Drum looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Drum said, "They said they could offer medical care."

Bell nodded. "Yes, please. We have a bad cough going through the temple and the village. Could you help?"

"Well, you could start by wearing more clothes," Rodney said, but much less sharply than he'd intended. They looked so relaxed in the cold that was making him shiver beneath his bulky jacket and vest; not a goosebump to be seen.

John rubbed his forehead. "We'll bring you back something. Is there a good time for us to return?"

"We are always here," Bell said, pointing inside the temple. "All are always welcome."

"Thank you," Teyla said, and bowed deeply, so Rodney did, too. Bell and Drum bowed, smiling enormously, and then walked back into the temple, still holding hands.

"Wow," Rodney said. "Was that a little too easy? Is something going to jump out at us?"

John gazed after them; he looked, Rodney thought, melancholy. "Cool," he said, which Rodney disagreed with. "Freezing," he corrected as they left. "So, we coming back?"

John shrugged. "Yeah, sure. We should probably take a sample of that clay back to Radek; make sure it's the right stuff."

He flew them to the ancient kristal leaf tree, which didn't look like crystal at all, Rodney thought, though he plucked a few leaves to take back to Leo Parrish for analysis while Ronon and John dug out some of the clay. "Let me see," he said as they packed a bit into an empty powerbar wrapper. He sniffed at it, and touched it carefully. It wasn't really white, but a creamy colour, the palest of yellows with a hint of blue, at least in this light, and very slippy to his fingers. "Huh," he said, knowing he sounded like Ronon.

Radek took it from them instantly, carrying it to his lab for testing. Rodney stood in the gateroom and watched him hurry off, Ronon at this side. He felt an odd let down, as if disappointed that nothing untoward had happened for once. Then he realized that they probably wouldn't be going back -- negotiations were done by Elizabeth's team.

"I'd like to spend some time at that temple," John said, surprising Rodney.

"What, you don't have enough to do?" Rodney said, but the snap was missing. "Actually, I feel the same way. It was . . . nice there."

"Nice," John echoed. He sighed. "Well, we have a department meeting this afternoon. I think I'll shower first."

Rodney nodded, and watched him walk away, feeling the silence of Atlantis around him, and noticing how different it was from the silence of the temple. "Bell and drum," he said to himself, and then hurried after Radek.

Another meeting spent discussing the Wraith, refining their plans, trying to cheer each other on, Rodney thought. The Ancients hadn't been able to succeed in the Pegasus Galaxy, and Rodney's vanity no longer permitted him to believe he was superior to them. He and Elizabeth continued to study the database, focusing on weapons technology and on anything to do with the Wraith, while Carolyn Biro continued to improve the neurotoxin that would kill the Wraith, and while Radek rebuilt the darts they captured, retrofitting them so humans could more easily fly them. John taught others to fly them, something Rodney knew he took no pleasure in. "It's too much like Earth technology," John had once told him, and though the Wraith were far ahead of human technology, Rodney knew what he meant: both Wraith and human machines lacked the elegance of Ancient technology, and for John, with such a powerful instance of the ATA gene, they lacked the ease and grace of use that he'd grown accustomed to.

Sufficient unto the day, Rodney told himself regularly as he hurried from task to task: from plucking something like cotton from a world where they traded their labour, to learning how raw clay was transformed into the high-quality ceramic that could be used in computers, to meeting with his increasingly-frightened staff. He learned to sew a bit so he could repair his torn clothing, and how to bottle fruit so he'd have a fair share of the sweetest plum-like things that he'd also picked from orchards on a distant world, and how to persuade John to eat dinner at a reasonable hour and not work himself into ill health.

They were all so busy that they didn't recognize trouble until it came: not from the Wraith, or the Genii, but from within. Two of John's men assaulted a woman, right in Atlantis. Drunk on some foul beer they'd smuggled into the city, frustrated with the limits of their isolation, angry and stupid, they bumped into her on her run to the mess hall late one night for coffee and taken advantage of the opportunity.

John was so angry that Rodney was worried about him. He and Elizabeth had endless private meetings trying to decide what to do; Rodney was not invited to participate. The woman, Marcia Coulter, had been Air Force before she'd been Atlantian, and she was a hard worker. Rodney had known her slightly; she was blonde, so he'd noticed her when she'd arrived on the _Daedalus_. He felt helpless and ignorant. He tried to imagine what he would do if his sister had been raped, or Sam, but the thought was so awful he had to turn it aside.

"What are you going to do with them?" he asked John one evening.

John shook his head. "Fuck if I know. I said kill them, because what else can we do? But Elizabeth wants us to consider other options. Incarcerate them? So our hard work will feed and clothe them? That's hardly fair. I thought about some of the worlds that have prison systems, asking if we could house them there."

"That's a good idea," Rodney said.

"Elizabeth's not wild about letting them out of our control."

"I can appreciate that," Rodney said. "Would they reveal anything important about Atlantis? Do they _know_ anything important about Atlantis? But you know what? Fuck them. Either kill them or get them out of the city before they hurt anybody else. They've been nothing but trouble. Do you want me to talk to Elizabeth?"

"About killing them? Or finding someplace off-world that'll take them?"

Rodney exhaled deeply. "I, uh, I actually did think about killing them myself."

"You could do that?"

He looked steadily at John, biting his lip, trying to imagine killing someone in cold blood. Or at least warm blood. "I don't know," he said at last. "Do we have capital punishment here? If not, should we start?. There's so much chance of a mistake."

"You're still Canadian, after all these years."

Rodney shrugged. He was both Canadian and Atlantian; what did it matter? What mattered was Lt. Coulter. "How is she?"

Now John shrugged. "Well enough, I guess. Karen's seeing her every day. Carson, too. She's staying with a friend, so she's not alone."

"That's good." Rodney studied John. "You look like shit."

Rodney expected him to snap back, but he just nodded. "I'm having trouble sleeping. I feel as though I let her down. I knew those assholes were trouble. Dammit."

"What could you do?" Rodney asked, trying to comfort him. "Preemptively shoot them?" John just rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Let me do that," Rodney said, setting down his mug and moving behind John. He rested his hands on John's shoulders for a moment. "You're like a rock," he said, pressing lightly, and then began to massage deeply. John groaned. He rubbed John's tense muscles for a long time, trying to soothe away the weight his shoulders bore so tirelessly. People came into the mess hall for tea or a late snack, nodded at him, but said nothing; no one even looked surprised that he was giving the general a massage.

At last, his hands tired, his back aching, he bent over and kissed the top of John's head. "Time for bed," he said softly.

John reached back and rested his hand on one of Rodney's for a moment. "Thank you," he said.

Rodney dreams were troubled that night: he chased and was chased through the corridors of Atlantis, trying to rescue Coulter, or John, or even Atlantis herself. He woke up exhausted, and went to Elizabeth's office to persuade her that John was right. Either kill them now, or put Jackson and Kendricks in prison someplace off-world. "We're judge and jury and everything else," he told her earnestly. "We _have_ to be. We can't risk having them hurt anyone else, and we have to let everyone know there are serious consequences to such behaviour."

He thought Elizabeth had been crying, though he forbore to mention her red eyes and nose. She nodded. "I can't think of anything else except getting them out of Atlantis, despite the risks. I just came from Marcia's quarters. I think she's doing better than we are. But we can't have those monsters here. Will you and John . . ."

"We'll take care of everything, Elizabeth. Let me pull the reports, and we'll let you know when we leave."

He found records of three worlds that had developed a kind of prison system. His team visited all three, talking to the administrators and touring the prisons, then viewing them from the puddlejumper. All three were mostly outdoors, relying on the prisoners to build their own shelters and produce the raw products of their food. "In bad years, they go hungry," the governor of one prison told them. Another said, "We're here to protect society from the offenders," and showed them the walls and chains around the ankles of every prisoner. Rodney liked that place.

The third they left almost immediately. "Bit _Lord of the Flies_," Rodney said. John nodded.

Teyla and Ronon both disapproved of it as well. "We should just kill them," Ronon said. "They forfeited their lives."

Teyla shook her head. "On Athos, I heard of such things happening, but never in my settlement. Halling says prayer and permanent vigil."

"We don't have _time_ for a permanent vigil," Rodney said.

"I know," Teyla said gently, putting a hand on his arm. "I do not believe there is a correct answer. There is only necessity."

Well, that was true, Rodney thought, but he still hated this. If Sheppard had been in charge, Jackson and Kendricks would never have been selected. Fucking Caldwell, or whoever the hell had been running the SGC had made that call, no doubt dumping the unwanted like so much garbage.

They made arrangements with the governor of the second prison, promising regular trading runs of produce and medical supplies. Rodney told himself he felt only relief, but at night, when he lay in bed worrying about the Wraith and his staff and his friends, he also thought about the two men, thrust out into a new galaxy, a new world, a new environment, and now into an alien prison. He thought he might die under those circumstances, and comforted himself as best he could with the knowledge that he wouldn't rape a woman no matter how drunk or angry he was.

Beyond his window, in the quiet of the night, he could hear the waves rolling up the steep steps of Atlantis, withdraw, and roll up again. A kind of heartbeat, he thought, not just of the city but of the world. He wasn't sure he could live without it any more than he could live without his own heartbeat.

"Their own fault," he muttered, turning in his twisted sheets. Time would, he knew, ease his discomfort. He just had to wait long enough, and he would forget even their faces.

When he woke up, it was to the news that the Hive ship had been spotted. He looked at Radek; they were both tired and afraid and angry. "Call a meeting," Radek said, and Rodney nodded. The day had come.

John and Lorne were both off-world; "Of course," Rodney said to Elizabeth. "I'll call out there, get them back. But it's time. It's time."

Rodney found John in the jumper bay, reeking of sheep shit and wearing his jacket like a pareo. He raised his eyebrows but only said, "Is Lorne ready to do this?"

John nodded. "He's ready, and he's pretty rested. With his team now."

Rodney followed John into his quarters and watched silently while he pulled on a pair of homemade trousers. "First time I've worn these on duty," he told Rodney who nodded. "Seems . . ."

"I know," Rodney said. "Another milestone." He stared at John, at John's unhappy, tired face. "We're going to lose people. That's -- I -- it's just." To Rodney's surprise, he put his hand on John's shoulder. He remembered rubbing John's shoulders in the mess hall late one night, and impulsively kissing the top of his head. "Thank you for not going," Rodney finally said. "We can't. Lose you. I can't." He dropped his hand and walked to the door, embarrassed by his display. The door refused to open, though, and he knew John had overridden his command.

When John said his name, he reluctantly turned back. He was breathing too hard, as if he'd run through the corridors. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, dammit. He held out his arms, awkward and ungraceful, and John came to him. He breathed in John's sweaty, sheep-shitty scent, grateful for more than he could articulate.

John looked as embarrassed as Rodney felt when they backed away from each other. He rubbed the back of his head and said, "Ah, jumper bay."

Time sped up the minute they entered the bay. Watching John watch Lorne and the others fly off was difficult, but seeing Teyla and Cadman leave was even harder. He hugged Teyla; she was so slim and graceful in his arms. He'd never known anyone like her. Cadman was mostly a pain in the ass; they knew each other too well for him to be comfortable with her, but she did love one of Rodney's closest friends and she seemed to make him happy, so Rodney hugged her, too, before releasing her into Carson's arms. He turned away from Carson's deeply unhappy face and talked meaninglessly to Radek and Elizabeth so he couldn't overhear Carson and Laura.

What a fucking nightmare. But Rodney had expended massive amounts of energy and thought and he couldn't come up with a better solution. As much as he liked Carson, he wasn't sure about the retrovirus. Killing the Wraith seemed more honest than trying to change them into something they were not.

He hated the Wraith, he loathed them passionately, a powerful feeling that kept shocking him with its intensity. He resented every moment he had to spend working on how to defeat them instead of on how to power Atlantis and improve life in the city. He wanted them gone, and if that meant killing one dart at a time or injecting an entire Hive ship with some loathsome poison, his soul would bear the burden. His soul would have to bear the burden. John might claim it was his decision, but Rodney knew if he or Elizabeth had been adamantly against it, the plan would not have gone forward. They ruled as a triumvirate, no matter what the new constitution said.

John stayed in the Observation Centre. Rodney stood watching him for a while, but Radek bullied him back to the lab where Radek's team of materials engineers were developing a silicon microturbine using semiconductor-type microfabrication methods. Rodney was impressed despite himself; materials engineering was important to him in Atlantis in a way it never had been on Earth. "Good stuff," he said grudgingly. "Can you get the turbine under a gram?"

Radek made a face. "It's just a gram, Rodney; how much smaller do you require?"

Neither of their hearts was in the argument, Rodney could tell, but they'd perfected this act in their years together and today it seemed important to be normal. Whatever that meant in the Pegasus Galaxy. "Carolyn's excited," Kavanagh interrupted them. "She can grow cells on the nanotubes using this technology. Help with fractures."

Rodney felt a sudden flash of gratitude for Kavanagh for helping pick up the slack. Others drew nearer, offering suggestions, until Radek was at the center of an argumentative circle of colleagues. He heard _whiskers_ and _actuators_ and, finally, _ceramic_, which reminded him of M6L-843 and the temple suspended over the void. He wanted to return and spend time examining the structures that clung to the wall of the canyon. He thought they might have built it there in part to protect themselves from flashfloods in the valley beneath them, but also to hide from the Wraith; the canyon wall was concave and they were hidden when viewed from above.

John paged them, hours later; Rodney had been able to sink into his own work, so soothing in its abstraction, and was irritated at the interruption until he realized what it meant. The lab fell silent, everyone switching to watch the long-range sensor feed. "Come along, Rodney," Radek said, lightly touching his back, and they headed back to the Observation Centre.

Rodney felt like shit, he realized. Everything hurt: his head, his throat, his stomach, even the bones of his legs ached. He stood behind John, watching the monitors, but they blurred. John looked miserable, hunched over a console, his shoulders drawn up to his ears; he probably felt worse than Rodney did. Remembering their quiet moment in John's quarters, Rodney first touched the back of John's chair, and then his shoulder. Instantly, John gripped Rodney's hand; his hand was like ice.

He felt worse the longer they watched the silent battle so far away. He could barely pay attention to what was going on around him, until Lorne finally broke radio silence to say, "Cadman, it's Cadman, sir," and Carson cried out as if shot. Rodney hung on to John even tighter, not caring who saw. People came and took Carson away, and then John left to speak to his men, and Rodney to tend to his staff.

When John appeared in the doorway to the lab, he left with him without a word, feeling as if he were floating above the floor. They walked in silence to a balcony overlooking the west pier, one of Rodney's favourite places. The air was shockingly cool to his overheated face. He could barely think; all he was aware of was John's presence, his warm body, his exhausted face, and without anymore bullshit fears, he laughed shakily and pulled John to him, kissing his face, his chin, his mouth, and then seriously kissing him. He was probably giving him the plague, but fuck it all, he'd waited too goddamn long already. "John," he murmured, resting his burning head against John's shoulder. John kissed his ear, his throat, his hands stroking Rodney's back and arms. "Shit, I'm tired," he confessed.

"What's going to happen?" John asked.

"Asshole. We're gonna go to bed; what did you think was going to happen?"

John laughed, and for the first time in weeks, Rodney's heart unclenched a tiny bit. He took a deep breath. The last light of the sun caught in John's graying hair, bringing out the red highlights, and his eyes were as green as the sea in the twilight.

Then Lorne was back, and they hurried back to the jumper bay where they found him sweaty and shaken and triumphant. Teyla walked out of the jumper like a queen to her own execution; Ochoa and Stackhouse looked grim. What had they done, Rodney wondered. He was as guilty as they were, and they were all guilty. How many thousands of lives had been lost? Not lost: intentionally destroyed, for the greater good, but would the Wraith accept that? Was all fair in love and war?

Fuck that, he thought again. He struggled through the endless day, sitting in on all the debriefings, then in the big meeting that Karen Rafiq held, and then a smaller one with the department heads. He was sick of meetings, he was sweating and shivering all at once. "Go to bed, Rodney," Elizabeth said at last. "Everyone, go to bed. What's done is done."

"Come on, buddy," John said, helping Rodney up. Rodney was so grateful for his presence. He kept clutching his head, trying not to moan. He already had a reputation as a bit of a hypochondriac; he didn't want to be seen as worse, not when Carson had lost his wife. But he really did feel shitty.

"A shower, I think," John said when they'd reached Rodney's quarters. "You'll feel better, and cool down. I think you have a fever."

"Don't go," Rodney said as firmly as he could. "Okay? Let's start now."

"Rodney, we started years ago."

"You know what I mean. Don't get pissy with me; I'm sick. Take care of me."

John laughed and shook his head. "Yes, dear," he said mildly, and helped Rodney strip.

"Not the sexy first time I'd imagined," Rodney admitted as John helped him into the shower.

"Oh, it has its benefits," John said, openly admiring Rodney's body.

"God, you should have seen me thirty years ago," Rodney moaned. "I've got pictures somewhere; you'll be so sorry."

"Shower, Rodney."

"You, too."

They stood under the streaming water, staring at each other. Rodney finally had permission to look, not just catch tiny glimpses in the locker room or in a tent off-world. "Idiot," John said. "Come here."

"I feel better," Rodney said.

"It's a miracle!"

It was, Rodney decided. He still ached, but having John in his arms and then in his bed was the best medicine. "Best medicine ever," he mumbled into John's neck. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, but he didn't have to. He was in bed, with John, without any stupid regulations against it, and the whole Pegasus Galaxy could know as far as he was concerned. Would know, in fact, if Rodney had his way.

Sex had to wait almost ten days, though, because Rodney was really sick. "Some kind of Pegasian flu," Carolyn Biro told him. "Nothing for it but bed rest and fluids."

"Oh my god," Rodney moaned. "What hideous timing."

Carolyn laughed and looked at John. "Yeah, well, you shouldn't have waited so long. Men are such morons."

Rodney peered up at her from under his hands that were protecting him from the sunlight. "Go away, you quack, unless you can offer a miracle drug."

To his surprised, Carolyn kissed his forehead. "Rest, Rodney. John, I expect you to look after this man."

"I do," John said, and even in his misery, Rodney smiled. John brought him water and tea and juice; he fluffed his pillow and straightened the sheets; he sat with Rodney while he drank the nasty tea Leo and Carolyn swore would reduce his aches and pains; he helped Rodney to the bathroom, and kept him quiet. Rodney felt himself succumbing to John's charms; it was something like drowning in champagne, he thought. He might end up dead, but he'd enjoy the process.

They kissed, though. In the morning, when John left for his work, when he came home with lunch to share with Rodney, and when he came home at night. Rodney treasured these casual kisses because they spoke to him of a long familiarity, one he could see stretching out for years and years. He was so proud of John, and to be John's partner; he lay in bed and smiled at his good fortune.

One day, Marcia Coulter came to see him. He'd spoken to her a few times since the assault, but he'd never known her well. He quickly sat up, surprised. She looked completely recovered, her face a bit rounder than he remembered. "Hello," he said, nervously smoothing the bedclothes around him.

"Hi, Dr. McKay. I heard you'd been sick for a while."

"Yeah, some flu, but I'm getting better now. Biro says I can get up tomorrow."

Marcia nodded. "I talked to her before I came. She says you're not contagious anymore."

"If I ever was. John --" He stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that she was military and that John was her superior. Except this wasn't Earth or the SGC. "Um, John hasn't caught it yet."

She smiled warmly at him and he relaxed a little. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. You're really good for General Sheppard. He looks healthier than I ever remember."

Rodney lifted his chin smugly. It was hard to dispute that he was good for John.

"Anyway, only a few people know, but I wanted you to know that, uh, after everything happened, I, uh, I got pregnant."

"Oh, Marcia." Rodney didn't know what to say. Congratulations? "Um, how are you? How do you feel?"

"Well, I've kind of gone round in circles. I mean, this is not how I'd choose to get pregnant, you know?" She grimaced, and Rodney knew he had, too. "I thought about getting an abortion. It seemed the right thing to do. But the more I thought about it -- well, there are so few of us. And I always wanted children. And this is Atlantis. She'll have a zillion aunts and uncles, and the schools are great, and there's even this great university I've heard about."

Rodney found himself smiling despite his concerns. "Well, I do know a few people. We might be able to get her on a waiting list. Her? Do you know for sure?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Carolyn's been taking care of me and she's got some Ancient device that --" She waved her hand in way that Rodney interpreted as _embarrassing female things_, so he nodded as if he understood.

"Well, congratulations, I guess. If it's what you want, and you're happy."

"I am. I really am. I think it's the right decision. I've talked to Major Miller, and he's supportive. He's a nice guy anyway, and has children of his own. His wife's been great, too.

"But why I'm here. This'll seem strange, because we don't really know each other, except I know you took care of those guys, and that you love Atlantis. And now you're with the general, which by the way, it took you guys long enough, and that seemed like a sign." She placed her hand on her stomach, and Rodney realized she wasn't just healthier and plumper; she was carrying a baby in there. He felt his eyes widen. "What I'd like is for you and the general to be the baby's godparents. I know you guys aren't religious or anything, and that's okay, that's good, actually. But if you could be a part of her life, and if, you know, if anything happened to me, well. You know."

Rodney's mouth fell open; he couldn't have been more surprised if she'd hit him. "Godparents," he said softly, and she nodded. "But what about Andy and Mara? Wouldn't they make more sense?"

"They'd be around. They'll always be in her life. But they have two kids already. Besides, what are the odds that anything'll happen to me? I'm being really selfish, well, for my daughter I'm selfish. I want you two in her life because I know you'll take care of her. You'll take the responsibility really seriously. That's what I want for her, to be taken seriously. You both treat everybody the same."

"I'm -- I'm speechless," Rodney said. "I'm honoured beyond words. I have to discuss this with John, and I'd like Elizabeth's opinion, if you don't object."

"No, of course. You don't have to answer now. She isn't due for another two and a half months, so you have time. And it's okay to say no, but I'll be honest and tell you that I'd be really disappointed if you do. I thought about this a lot, and you're the kind of person I want her to be like."

"Wow," Rodney said. "Wow. Wait'll I tell John."

She beamed at him. "Thank you, Dr. McKay. I really appreciate it." At the door she turned, still smiling, and said, "Let me know what the general says."

Rodney flopped back into the bed. He might have to have a relapse; things were changing too quickly around him.

That night, when John came home, Rodney was already showered and in clothes, not just a tee-shirt and his Athosian drawers. "Let's go out to dinner tonight," he suggested.

"You sure you well enough?" John asked him, trying to feel his forehead.

"I'm _fine_," Rodney insisted. "Well, some residual weakness in my limbs, I admit, but I have you to lean on, right? So that'll be okay. Besides, I want to get out of here, just for a bit."

"Well, okay. Let me shower and then we'll go." He shouted over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom, "It's good to see you up. I was beginning to think you were going to pull a Marcel Proust."

"Oh, really," Rodney said, leaning against the door so he could watch John strip. "Lie in bed and remember madeleines? Yeah, that sounds like me. Now, eating madeleines, that sounds good."

"If you're talking about food, you are recovered."

"Listen, has Lt. Coulter come to see you recently?"

"No, why? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, very okay. Did you know she was pregnant?"

"Yeah, Miller told me. It was all confidential, though, till she decided what to do."

"Well, she's decided." Rodney waited until John was dressing before he continued. "She came to see me. She wants you and me to be her daughter's godparents."

"What?" John stared at him, one sandal forgotten in his hand. "Us? Godparents?"

Rodney nodded. "I think it's a great idea. Who'll take better care of her daughter than we would?"

"Jesus, Rodney. You don't even like kids, and now you want to be a godparent? Babies are stinky, they're little poop machines, and they grow up to be teenagers. You know that from Elizabeth's boy Gabe, and from Radek's university."

Rodney made his hand go _talk-talk-talk_. "I do know all that. But it's just one child, and we'd only be godparents, so how often would we interact? Hardly more than we already would simply because Atlantis is so small."

"You like this idea?" John asked him, resting his elbows on his knees and studying Rodney closely. "You sure you still don't have a fever?"

"Ha ha. No, no fever. But -- it's just this woman has gone through so much, and here she is, in another galaxy, with no family and not many friends."

"That doesn't sound much like the Rodney McKay I know and love."

"Okay, think of it this way: I'll have a little mind to mould, to ensure she doesn't grow up stupid, the way ninety percent of the galaxy does."

John nodded, smiling to himself. "That sounds more like you. Well, let's talk to Coulter again, be sure we understand what she thinks are a godparent's responsibilities. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a real dad."

"Oh, please," Rodney said. "You'd be a great dad."

"Guess we'll never know."

"Waste of a good ATA gene," Rodney said thoughtfully, staring at John. It was a waste. He had the most powerful ATA gene in the entire galaxy; they ought to be harvesting John's sperm and impregnating every fertile woman with it.

"Oh no," John said, standing up, still holding one sandal. "I am not going to be put out to stud for my gene. If I can't knock you up, that's just too bad."

Rodney patted his belly. "It might appear otherwise, but I doubt even your virility can accomplish that."

"Speaking of your stomach, you still want dinner?"

They did agree, after much discussion, to become baby Amanda's godparents. They consulted with Halling, who consulted with Weir, who consulted with Corrigan, and among the six of them, they invented a godparents ritual suitable for atheists in the Pegasus Galaxy. Rodney enjoyed it more than he ever imagined, and he fell in love with Amanda, who had Marcia's big blue eyes and no hair at all. Radek told him he was unbearably smug, but he thought he had every right to be; after all, weren't he and John the godparents of the most beautiful child in Atlantis?

More than that, he was proud because he was sharing the honour with John. It was their first public event in some ways, despite the fact that it was common knowledge that they lived together. But they'd appear as a couple, as _parents_, and then they'd have a party. "A naming party," he said to John in private. "I ask you; how new age can we get? Elizabeth really will be having us all take the same last name one of these days. It's that _Corrigan_; he's a bad influence."

John ignored him, adjusting his robes. They were wearing their dress robes, which had started off Athosian but over the years had become Atlantian. Rodney had two layers of blue to his, plus a kind of shawl that he thought resembled a doctoral hood in golden yellow, for science. John's was blue as well, though Teyla had given him a kind of cummerbund to wrap around his still trim waist. Rodney thought they both looked very nice, but John caught everyone's eye, and Rodney was ridiculously proud of that.

Fortunately, they'd prevailed and didn't have to repeat anything embarrassing as part of the naming ceremony. Amanda was as good as gold, gnawing on her fist and smiling sleepily up at John and Rodney as they awkwardly held her while Halling and Weir said their lines, and Marcia and Corrigan beamed. If Rodney found his vision blurring a little when he watched John kiss the baby's forehead and hand her back to Marcia, he never admitted it to anyone.

The party was great, and it seemed as though all of Atlantis and all the Athosians had turned out to support Marcia. Jackson and Kendricks hadn't left any friends behind, or if they had, they were smart enough not to show it; Rodney knew John and Lorne were watching for any trouble. But the threat of the Wraith, the loss of Cadman, the birth of the baby and Elizabeth's second pregnancy, and word about their general's partner seemed to eclipse other topics. Rodney danced with Marcia, holding the baby to his chest, embarrassed by the sappy smile on his face, and then with John. They knew the old dances well now, and Rodney liked to imagine the Ancestors doing these dances at special occasions as well.

Later, walking through the orchard, checking the buds on the fruit trees to make sure no pests threatened them, John said, "You ever have moments when you just can't believe this is your life?"

Rodney shook his head, and swung John's hand. "Just every waking moment," he said, "and quite a few dreaming moments."

"You want them to dance for us?" John asked. "We never got around to any kind of ceremony. Does that matter to you?"

Rodney was surprised by the question. Ever since John had asked him, before Carson had moved to the mainland and before Marcia had announced her pregnancy, he'd thought they _were_ joined, or whatever it was. That they were together. Out in public, especially after tonight. "I'm thinking it does to you," he said slowly. Else why would John have asked?

"I'm not sure," John said. "Right now, full of cider and _hesha_, it seems like a good idea. In the morning? Who knows."

Rodney tried to imagine it, standing in the circle with all their friends surrounding them, letting Halling and Weir wax poetic over them. "I don't know," he finally said. "On the one hand: what's the point? But on the other, I'm really proud that you, uh, that you. Well."

John grinned at him. "I'm not stupid, Rodney."

"Never said you were, okay, that's not strictly true, but I never said you were as stupid as most people. In fact, quite the contrary."

"You're such a romantic," John said, and Rodney had to kiss him for quite a while after that.

"Maybe," Rodney told him when they started back to the jumper. Others were gathering as they walked; John would have a full bus when he left, including Marcia, Amanda, and Corrigan. John squeezed his hand, but didn't say anything more.

That night, Rodney sat on the edge of their bed and watched as John undressed and hung their dress robes neatly away -- Rodney had tossed his over a chair, but John took apart the layers and shook them out before hanging them in the cupboard that Parker had built them, since the Ancients didn't seem to believe in closets. Neat as always, certain in his economical movements, yet graceful in his unique slouchy way, and Rodney loved him. How the hell had he come to this? Sitting on a handmade bed in another galaxy watching John tidy their room. He shook his head, bemused.

"What?" John asked him.

"Radek's materials engineers want more of the clay from M6L-843."

"So? Let's go. Take a little time, explore the place."

Rodney nodded. He was hoping John would say that. He flopped back on the bed, and John knelt over him. "Hey."

"Hey." They kissed, John lowering himself on top of Rodney, who groaned. John was bonier than Rodney liked, but better than during the bad years, when they were floundering around trying to figure out how to feed and clothe themselves. He ran his hands down John's back, feeling the muscles move over those bones, then cupped John's ass and pulled him down, tight against him. "You feel good," Rodney whispered. "And I feel lucky."

"Oh, you're gonna get lucky all right," John promised. He rose enough to tug at Rodney's drawers; Rodney grabbed them and pulled them off, wiggling vigorously until he could kick them across the room. "I just cleaned up," John said, but he was smiling. The lights slowly dimmed, and a window opened slightly, letting in the scent and sound of the ocean beneath them.

They rearranged themselves on the bed, lying on their sides facing each other. Rodney stroked John's hair and face, staring into his eyes. In the faint light, they were dark as the night sky and just as deep. John touched him, smoothing his hands down Rodney's body, over his chest, across his belly, to his hips, and then to his cock. "So beautiful," Rodney found himself whispering, but it was true: John was beautiful. "Here," he said, and worked his way down the bed until he could slide John's cock into his mouth: heavy and hot, tasting faintly of soap, he sucked until John began to thrust. His eyes watered but it was good, deeply satisfying in some way he'd never understood to feel John moving in his mouth. John came gasping, whispering Rodney's name, clutching at his head.

He held still, letting John's cock soften in his mouth, his hands curling around John's thighs. "Come up," John said, and he gently released him, resting his head against John's abdomen for a moment before kissing his way up his body. "Let me." John wrapped one hand around Rodney's cock, pulling firmly. "What do you want?"

"Suck me," he whispered back. He was so tired; he could barely keep his eyes open. But John felt so good, his hand hot and firm and sweaty, that he began to wake up. John crawled down his body, sexy as hell, looking up at Rodney as he kissed his balls and licked his cock before sucking it into his mouth. Then he pulled back and said, "On your knees." Rodney obeyed, spreading his legs so John could crawl under him and begin sucking him again, harder; Rodney could feel his arousal deep in his groin, into his belly, muscles jerking rhythmically. John relaxed his mouth and Rodney began to thrust into him. John glided one hand over Rodney's hip and over his ass, sliding his fingers between Rodney's cheeks, teasing his hole, and Rodney pushed harder, trembling with effort. "God, oh, _John_," he panted, trying to catch his breath.

He collapsed onto his side, letting John pull the covers over them. They leaned toward each other and kissed again, softer and sweeter, a good night kiss, sleepy and satisfied.

The next day, Rodney went hunting Elizabeth, to talk about M6L-843. He found her younger child in the crche. "Where's Mummy?" Rodney asked, scooping Yvraine up and kissing her cheeks. Mara said, "Hanging laundry," and went back to washing another little girl's face, streaked with finger paints.

"On the east pier?" She nodded, so Rodney waved Yvraine's hand at her. "Bye, Mara," he said, carrying Yvraine in front of his chest. She was getting big for that, but he enjoyed her solid weight in his arms. So healthy, and so beautiful.

Gabriel was there, too, handing clothespins to his mum. Yvraine kicked in excitement, so he set her down and watched her toddle toward her older brother. "Gabe! Gabe!" she laughed.

"Happy day, Rodney," Elizabeth called to him, bending over to kiss Yvraine. "Do you have time to help?"

"I can spare a few moments from my life-assuring work to hang up wet fabric, yes." He shook out a sheet, letting Elizabeth catch the opposite end of it, and then backed up, stretching it out. With his help, the clothes were soon up, flapping in the breeze. They leaned against the railing of around this section of the pier and watched Yvraine chase after Gabe. "They're good kids, Elizabeth. I'm tutoring Gabe in maths myself."

"I know, and thank you, Rodney. How is he?"

"Not gifted in maths, but his verbal skills are extraordinary. Also his language acquisition skills; I suppose that's Radek and Ronon's contribution."

"Well, I have some small skill in language acquisition myself," she pointed out, elbowing him.

"Hm. Suppose that's true. He's healthy, he's cheerful, he's athletic, so not growing up to be the Pegasus Galaxy's Einstein isn't the end of the world. He can be a negotiator, like his parents."

"I'd like that. We're talking about taking him on a mission soon. He's young, but everyone seems to start young here. Look at Jinto and Vesha."

"Yeah. It's a good idea. Listen, Radek's asked for more of that clay. I know that's normally a mission you'd take, but I'd like to go back. You've seen that temple. I'd like to see it again."

"Of course, Rodney. It is lovely there. Such a peaceful, serene place."

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

They went back to M6L-843, he and John and Ronon and Teyla. It was another cold day there, with snow drifts masking the steps. John hung onto Rodney's jacket as he followed him up. There was ice under the snow, too, and after one skid, Ronon took Rodney's hand and led them up the narrow walkways to the temple suspended over the void. Like three blind mice, Rodney though, but in fact he was comforted by their care.

He was shivering violently by the time they reached the first courtyard, and had forgotten how open the rooms were. Yet the monks were still seated on the cold floor, still chanting to themselves, while the wind spun the prayer wheels and tossed the flags. He stood close to John, and waited until one of the monks noticed them. Instead of leading them back outdoors into a courtyard, he led them deeper into the temple, into a room carved from the cliff face. There was a stove heating the room; all five of them stood near it. A gust of wind howled through the temple; Rodney was sure he felt the wooden floor beneath him surge, but the monk was unperturbed. "Welcome," he said. "I remember you. I am Bell."

"Hello," John said. "We are here hoping to trade for more of your clay."

"As I said, the clay doesn't belong to us, but we are happy to accept any donations you wish to make."

"Food," Ronon said, emptying his pack. "Fresh fruit, three kinds."

"The bark of the redbud tree," Teyla said, emptying hers. "Brewed as tea, it eases aches and lowers fevers."

"An ointment we use on cuts and burns, to prevent infection," Rodney said, pulling out several clay pots of the smelly stuff.

"This is extremely generous of you," Bell said, smiling at them and bowing. "You are welcome here always."

"Can we stay for a while? We'd like to explore a bit," John said. "Look at the wall paintings and your sculpture."

"We encourage visitors. Do you have a place to stay?"

"The jumper -- the vehicle we came in."

Bell bowed again. "I will speak with the abbot. When I return, I will teach you what I know of the history of the temple."

"Thank you," they said, bowing. Rodney shuddered, so John pushed him nearer the stove. Their jackets, from the original expedition, so old and ragged, patched repeatedly, steamed in the heat. Rodney had lined his with a soft material, trying to insulate it, but this place was just too cold for him after years of living in temperate Atlantis. "We should get the clay," he said.

"After the tour," John said.

Bell returned quickly, still smiling and bowing. The tour was interesting, too, though a lot of it was too alien; Rodney couldn't take any gods seriously, and the temple worshiped a lot of them. Bell bowed before many of them, and Rodney felt he had to, too, but he found he was yawning from boredom so hard that his eyes watered. John and Teyla gave him warning glances; Ronon was entranced by the explanations. "What about Bo?" he asked. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, of course; he is from Sateda. He lives in here." Bell led them to another room full of more statues.

"Bo," Ronon murmured staring at one of them, then bowing deeply. When he rose, to Rodney's surprise he touched the statue's face, smiling at it. "I missed you," he said. He turned to his team and said, "This was my family's little god. He had special care of us." Before Rodney could point out that Bo had done a shitty job, John elbowed him.

"Where is Bo from?" Teyla asked.

"The blue moon, the one behind the moon you see at night," Ronon said. "Blue for hidden, blue for love, blue for empty infinity."

Rodney remembered the blue of the ice in Antarctica, and realized that Bo had eyes the same colour of the ice, a pure, pale blue. Empty infinity indeed. Ronon bowed again, pressing his palms together in a kind of _namaste_. Rodney bowed, too, to honour the memory of Ronon's lost world. When he stood up, a bit light-headed, John smiled approvingly at him, so he kissed him, surprising himself. Ronon and Teyla smiled at them, as did Bell.

"Will you meet our abbot now?" Bell asked. They trooped after him, through another courtyard and up more slick stairs. Rodney trod carefully, clinging to the railing, while John hung onto him. The abbot was much younger than Rodney expected, seated on the bare stone floor. Bell bowed, and then sank to his knees, sitting back on his heels.

After a hesitation, all four knelt. Rodney helped John down, knowing his knees would be aching in the cold and after all the climbing they'd done, and then he collapsed awkwardly onto his ass. The abbot studied them. He looked as remote as the statues they'd seen, his eyes slitted as he gazed steadily at them At last he said, "Bell tells me you are generous and gentle. That you have never injured us, and that you leave more than you take. But I see a great evil about you. You have killed many, many."

Rodney opened his mouth to argue, but he realized they had killed many. He settled back sulkily; who was this guy to accuse them? They did what they had to to survive. No one else spoke, and after a while the abbot said, "There is no possibility of assuaging the spirits of all you have killed. They will haunt you into the next life. However, I see you regret your actions, and you make amends when you can.

"You are welcome here. If I were your spiritual advisor, I would instruct you to pray often, and I would assign you to watch the littlest among us, the weak and the ill. You cannot set right what you have put wrong, but you can work to avoid further harm."

He began chanting to himself, and Rodney was sure he'd instantly forgotten they were there. After long minutes without cessation, he struggled to stand, John helping him. They watched for another minute of two, and then left. "That was weird," John said, and slid on the ice.

"John!" Rodney cried, grabbing John's jacket.

"I'm okay, I'm cool," John said.

"Jesus, don't fucking scare me like that," Rodney scolded. "It's, what, fifty metres down? Hang on to the railing; that's what it's there for."

"Yes, dear," John said, but he did take the railing and move slower as they worked their way back through the temple and down the path.

"Oh, thank god," Rodney said, and then his feet went out from under him so suddenly that he didn't register the change until his back hit the stone and he rolled over the edge of the cliff.

"Rodney!" John yelled, and he and Ronon dropped to their stomachs, grabbing at him. Teyla seized John's jacket.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, no, I'm not, oh my god, my leg, I did something to my leg, oh fucking _hell_ it hurts." He lay balanced between the steps and the cliff, afraid to move. "Ronon, please --"

"Got you, McKay," Ronon said, and he and John pulled him back, Teyla keeping John in place. Every inch they pulled was an agony to Rodney's leg; he clutched at it, trying not to cry out in pain, but he was hot and cold, sweat pouring from him and freezing almost instantly.

"How the fuck am I going to get to the jumper?" he gasped when he lay awkwardly on the steps. He was shaking so hard he was afraid he'd bounce off and down the cliff again.

"I'll bring the jumper to you," John said. He knelt over Rodney, looking into his face. "Christ, Rodney. I thought, I was afraid . . ."

"Not as afraid as I was," Rodney said. "Please, John. Get me something for the pain. I wrenched my knee or something, and it hurts _so much_. And my back is killing me, and I hit my head, do you think I have a concussion? Are my pupils the same size?" He opened his eyes as wide as he could, and John laughed, touching his face with a shaking hand.

"You're not concussed," he said. "I'm going to leave you with Ronon and Teyla now. I'll fly the jumper up."

"And do what? Where'll you land it?"

"Shut up, McKay, and let me rescue you," John whispered, and kissed him lightly. "Be right back. Teyla, Ronon. Take care of Rodney."

"You are a very lucky man, Rodney," Teyla said as she wiped his face with a handkerchief."

"Oh, yeah, lucky Rodney, that's me," he said, but he knew she was right. "We better have that ceremony," he murmured, his muscles jerking in the cold.

"Why did you wait so long?" Ronon asked him, but Rodney couldn't figure out what he meant over the buzz in his head.

"Passing out now," he tried to say as black spots swam before him and his vision tunneled to nothing. Distantly, he heard Teyla shouting at him, but she was so far away.

He woke when Ronon picked him up and half-dragged him into the jumper. John was hovering it at the side of the cliff, so they only had to step from the stairs into it, but he was a dead weight, unable to do more than keep his hands wrapped around his left knee vainly trying to protect it from being jostled. His hands felt like icy claws dug into his knee; he wasn't sure he'd be able to let go.

"Buddy? How you doing?" John called from the cockpit.

"Ahggg," Rodney groaned. Ronon didn't try to get him up on one of the benches, which was fine with Rodney; he was tired of being manhandled and happy to lie on the jumper's floor. "Home, 'kay?"

"En route now," John said. Teyla closed the hatch, and they were gone.

"Didn't get the clay," Rodney said, but no one answered, and he didn't think Radek would mind too much. He lay back, covered with blankets but still shivering, and thought about the abbot's words. They had killed many. Thousands and thousands of Wraith, and who knows how many others when they'd gotten in their way. I should feel bad, Rodney told himself, and he did, except not much because if he hadn't killed them, they would have killed him and John and everyone he loved, and that wasn't going to happen as long as Rodney McKay could avoid it. Maybe all they could do was try to atone. But he'd kill again if threatened, so what did atone mean?

But he was in Atlantis, he discovered, being carried out of the jumper and settled onto a stretcher. "Carolyn," he said. "For once I'm glad to see you."

"Glad to see you, too, Rodney," she said dryly, but her natural enthusiasm returned as she chattered about ACL, ligaments, and torn meniscus.

"You know what?" he interrupted her. "I'm gonna puke." He leaned over the side of the stretcher, John supporting his back, and Carolyn shoved a basin under his chin. "Shit, shit, I feel like shit, oh my god."

"Lie back, Rodney. Breathe through your nose. Slowly, don't hyperventilate. Slowly. Okay. Your colour's coming back. Here," she pushed the basin into his hands. "Close your eyes. Keep breathing. John?"

"Come on, Rodney." They started moving again, and Rodney used one hand to hang onto the basin and the other to blindly reach for John, who grabbed hold and didn't let go, even when he was moved onto a hospital bed.

They gave him the tea that reduced swelling and calmed his stomach; since he didn't puke, he supposed it was true, but the stuff couldn't compare to Seattle's Best. John helped him, insisting he drink every drop, while Carolyn and her minions did things to his knee. She made him lie flat, with his knee up, and then actually began _pulling_ on his leg. "Jesus Christ," he gasped; tea or no tea, that fucking _hurt_.

"Just one more," she said, and John held him while she pulled. "You've ruptured the cruciate ligaments," she said. "How you did that falling I'm not sure -- did somebody tackle you? You must have landed on your feet when you began the fall and then twisted."

"Whatever," Rodney said irritably, knocking her hand away and holding onto his knee. "Just fix it."

"Well, time will do most of that. You're out of the field for a minimum six months, though, and there's lots of PT ahead of you."

"Fuck." Out of the field, wait. "No fucking way is John going out without me. He's trouble, he needs the biggest brain in the galaxy with him, there has to be some Ancient medicinal magic, shit."

"Rodney," John said. "Let the good doctor speak."

"First, arthroscopic surgery. We'll do a hamstring graft and weave the torn tendons --"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Rodney screeched, clapping his hands to his ears. "Do I want to know what medieval torture you'll subject me to? Just wake me when it's over."

Carolyn shook her head, and even John smiled, the bastard. "Whatever, Rodney," she said. "In the meantime, lie back and enjoy the many pleasures of the infirmary."

"Oh, ha ha, very amusing." He folded his arms and stared at the ceiling. "I don't suppose I can have more of that tea."

John maneuvered a straw into his mouth, so he sucked obediently. The flavour wasn't as vile as Rodney pretended, but he didn't want people to get the wrong idea, so he scrunched his face into a moue of disgust. John kissed his forehead and settled into a chair next to him.

"Fuck," Rodney said, turning his head so he could look at John. "I'm sorry. I just slipped, I should have been more careful, or we should get spiked shoes or even skates, did you know I could ice skate? I played hockey as a kid."

"I slipped, too, remember? Just bad luck, Rodney." He stroked Rodney's hair, which was so unfair; John knew how much Rodney liked that.

"I'm going bald," he sulked.

John kissed the top of his head. "It's all that testosterone," he whispered, and bit Rodney's earlobe, making Rodney laugh.

"John," he said, catching John's hand. "Don't go off-world anymore. Not without me to back you up. It's what we do, remember? Take turns saving each other? If I'm not there, who'll take care of you?"

"Well, I do have some skill at that, after all these years. And Ronon and Teyla will be there."

Rodney sighed. He already knew he'd lose this argument, but maybe he could impress on John how important it was to take care of himself. He stared into John's eyes and lightly touched his cheek. "Don't want to lose you," he breathed. John kissed him, and rested his head on Rodney's chest.

"Maybe now I can finally catch you," John murmured.

Rodney had no idea what he meant, but it was nice to feel John with him, and he sighed. He didn't hurt as much, he was home, and John was with him. He'd worry later. It's the tea, he thought; he felt as if he were melting into the bed.

Everything that followed was tedious beyond belief, and Carolyn was keeping him drugged or something; he couldn't _think_ clearly enough to work on any of his pet projects, so he was reduced to watching vids that Diamond streamed to his laptop, reading transcripts of plays Elizabeth had seen in the galaxy, and listening to music. Someone on Radek's team had developed an iPod function over the radios that would automatically shut off when someone radioed you, so he could listen over his headset. The headsets themselves had been reengineered many times over the years and were, Rodney thought, elegant little things, not much more than an earbud, only comfortable, and the microphone didn't stick out like the old ones but sat unnoticeably just under the ear, against the throat. Some people had decorated theirs as jewelry, so they glittered or had stones dangling from them.

Physical therapy was hideous; Vesa was responsible for his rehab, and he liked her, so he tried to keep his whining to a minimum, but it fucking hurt and it was humiliating to have her manhandle him. "Push, pull, make up your mind," he grumbled. They'd put him on crutches immediately after the surgery, and started therapy the very next day, which sucked. The only good thing was swimming. He and John would fly to the mainland, to their favorite beach.

"Who knew this would be considered rehabilitating?" Rodney asked around John's cock. He could lie on his back with John over him, sometimes kneeling and jerking off while Rodney sucked his balls and finger-fucked him, sometimes crouched over him so Rodney could blow him.

"Don't. Talk. Suck," John gasped, so Rodney slid his finger into him, making him shudder and push back.

"Shit, I want to fuck you," he mumbled, then set himself to getting John off as spectacularly as he could. Fucking outdoors, the sound of the waves rushing up and down their beach, the puddlejumper offering them shade and supplies: this was the best method of recovery Rodney could imagine.

He never did recover full use of his knee; that quack Biro had told him knees sometimes were stronger after rehab, but he always had a bit of a hitch and when he was tired, he needed a cane. He was afraid John would insist he stop going off-world, but that hadn't happened yet. When frightened, he could run as fast as ever, even if he paid for it the next day.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, they had another holiday to celebrate: Atlantis Day, the day Elizabeth's team returned with a fully charged ZPM. That was the holiday dearest to Rodney's heart; never would he forget racing through the corridors of Atlantis as they filled with excited people, or the feeling of sliding the ZPM into the vacant receptacle, or how Atlantis responded. He had looked across the room at John and thought he knew exactly how Atlantis felt: exhilarated. Exalted. Relieved. They could hide, they could submerge, they could defend themselves in ways simply not possible with only one partially-charged ZPM. They weren't safe, but they were safer than ever before.

A measure of prosperity returned to Atlantis and Rodney grew accustomed to a kind of peace, even though he and Radek never stopped anticipating the arrival of another Hive ship. Both of them knew that day would come, though they feared it less than before the gift of the second ZPM. Carolyn continued to refine the neurotoxin, and Atlantian engineers began developing new small arms and crew-served weapons. Elizabeth didn't like that Atlantis became, in effect, an armament manufacturer, but she admitted they needed to be prepared. John's enthusiastic support of their craftsmen and engineers also swayed Elizabeth, Rodney knew. "Anything that makes a big bang," he teased John after Radek presented him with the first Atlantian _wonder nine_ semi-automatic handgun. John smiled wolfishly at him but didn't deny the accusation.

Ten years after the loss of contact with Earth arrived more quickly than Rodney could believe. Almost twelve years in Atlantis, some of them hungry and hard years -- even he agreed that their survival was worth celebrating. John and Elizabeth both turned fifty within weeks of the ten year anniversary. Karen Rafiq had come up with the idea of a celebration; she was living on the mainland with Carson now, but commuted with the children each day into Atlantis. She wasn't at all the same rather shy administrative assistant who'd come to Atlantis. She'd gained some weight, and grown out her hair; Rodney thought she looked like a model for Mother Earth. But she had also grown into her job and he'd learn to trust her suggestions. "We need to mark the occasion," she proposed at a department meeting. "Invite everyone, including our allies from other worlds. Atlantis is special; some cultures even revere us as the Ancestors. This should be a real blow-out."

Rodney liked the idea in principle, though in practice he thought it sounded like a big distraction from their real work. Still, they did celebrate more, following Athosian traditions, so this idea fit in with that. Halling said, "The celebration should be here, in Atlantis, on the west pier."

"There's plenty of room there," John agreed. "This time of year, it'll be warm enough during the day."

Minnie said, "I'll need Alex to build more fences. I don't want drunks wandering through the tomato patch."

For some reason that made Rodney laugh; maybe the image of drunken allies in tomato sauce, but he just said, "Someone should talk to Jenny Imoto first."

"I will," Elizabeth said. She sat forward, smiling. "I like this idea, Karen. If I have to turn fifty, I'm going to do it in style."

"John, too," Rodney said, putting his hand on John's knee.

"Thank you, Rodney, for reminding everyone of my age."

"You're older than Elizabeth or me," he said smugly. "I'm still a wunderkind."

"Rodney," Radek said, pushing his glasses up his nose, "you have not been wunderkind for thirty years."

"Compared to John and Elizabeth I am," he shot back, happy to hear John chuckle beside him.

"Two years younger?" John asked skeptically.

"People," Elizabeth said, tapping the table with the palm of her hand. "Now, who'll volunteer for the committee to prepare for the party? Karen, you'll chair?"

"Of course."

Rodney managed to avoid serving on that particular committee, but Elizabeth, Radek, and Carolyn all volunteered, and Elizabeth suggested Jenny and Alex. They moved on to other issues, but it was the upcoming party that became the topic of the moment.

John's birthday came first, and though officially they were celebrating it later, privately his team threw him a little party, complete with _hesha_ and whipped cream. Ronon gave him a wristband he'd made of leather and beads and tiny shells. "My father wore one," he said simply, and Rodney had to look away from his and John's faces. "I'm glad you found me, Sheppard. I'm glad to serve you."

After an awkward silence and some manly hugging between John and Ronon, from which Rodney averted his eyes, Teyla gave John a vest she had made herself. She'd sheared the sheep, cleaned the fleece, washed and carded and spun it into yarn, and then woven the material. She'd used different colours of wool and left them natural, so the vest was in shades of cream and grey. "It's beautiful," John said, modeling it for them. "I can't believe you did this, Teyla. All this work."

"It looks good on you," Rodney said staring at him. The colours were perfect, and the collar she'd put on it, a fringey-thing, softened John's narrow face. He looked relaxed and happy, and Rodney's heart seized up with how much he loved John at that moment, how much he wanted him safe and beside him. This was why it wasn't good to get close to others: the horrible realization that John was as necessary to him as air and food, and the knowledge that one day, no matter how careful Rodney was, something would happen. In the long run, we're all dead, he thought, one of the few things he remembered from an undergraduate economics class he'd been forced to take. Fuck.

He stroked the soft wool, admiring the fine weave, the lovely way the colours faded into each other. "Extraordinary, Teyla," he finally said. "I've always enjoyed looking at John, but this makes that pleasure even greater."

"Hey," John said, a smile building on his face, and he bent down to kiss Rodney, a real kiss, despite the presence of the rest of the team. Rodney sat up proudly. Out of the entire galaxy, John had come to Rodney. The chance of that happening seemed vanishingly slim, yet here he was, smiling down at him, Rodney's partner and closest friend.

"Hey, yourself." Rodney held John's hand for a minute more, rubbing the wristband that Ronon had given him. John had never told him why he always wore a wristband, but Rodney liked it a lot.

Rodney had struggled with what to give John. What could he offer him? The solution to a millennium prize problem? Name a star after him? A puddlejumper? Actually, Rodney had done the last two. The brightest star in the northern hemisphere of their planet now bore the name _John Sheppard_, in addition to BD-09¡697. Rodney had been tempted to add _McKay_ to the name, but realized the pettiness of that would mar the gesture. Not to mention they'd never formally joined. But in his head, when he looked up, he saw the star _John Sheppard McKay_, and if that made him a big girl's blouse, well, no one had to know.

The newest retrofitted puddlejumper was also named _The Sheppard_. Rodney himself had painted the name on the stern hatch, both in English and Ancient, with help from Elizabeth.

But those surprises were for the big party. For this little one, he suddenly realized his gift was grossly inadequate. He swallowed uncomfortably, and wondered if he could get away by saying his gift was for later. John wouldn't think anything of it; after all, Rodney was well-known as a selfish asshole. But he'd come this far, so he'd go all the way.

"Ah," he started, and the look of expectation on John's face shamed him. "I had a really stupid idea, and now, after seeing what Ronon and Teyla gave you, I'm just, it's just, I really really thought it was a good idea when I thought of it, but now I see I'm totally screwed, and a real bastard, and --"

Teyla lightly touched his hand. "We know who you are, Rodney," she said.

"Well, yes," he said. Ronon looked amused, as he so often did, but John was smiling softly at him. "Oh god, I'm a moron," Rodney said despairingly. "Look, I really thought this was a good idea, so just chalk it up to, I don't know, the tea Carolyn's had me drinking for my arthritis, or delirium from not getting off-world in weeks."

"McKay," Ronon said.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Not babbling. John, you and I, we, you asked, and I thought, maybe at the party . . ." He trailed off, staring in bewilderment at John, who was laughing, slapping Ronon on the back, and then kissing Teyla.

"So, you're gonna make me an honest man?"

"Rodney!" Teyla said, and hugged him tightly.

"Finally," Ronon said, and to Rodney's shock, kissed him firmly on the lips. "On Sateda, you'd be a criminal for waiting like this."

"Criminal?" he said faintly. "Honest man?"

"Yes, Rodney. For reasons I've never fully understood, I would like to join with you. That's why I've asked you, oh, two or three times. My feelings were getting hurt."

"John!" Rodney tried to stand up, forgetting his knee, and collapsed onto Teyla, who held him securely until John pulled him up.

"Easy, buddy. You finally say yes and then re-injure yourself; that's not a good omen."

"You don't believe in omens."

"No, I don't." John adjusted his arms, tucking Rodney against him, resting his forehead against Rodney's in the Athosian way. "Rodney McKay, I'd just about given up on you. Yes, I want that formal joining ceremony. I want Halling and Weir to wave their hands and say their voodoo. I want to dance to the drums in the old way, and then dance to Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash and The Rocketeers."

"The Rocketeers?" Rodney said, outraged. "They _suck_. I can't even recognize some of the instruments they're playing."

"Yes, but they're ours," John said, and the look in his eyes stopped Rodney.

"I don't deserve you," he said abruptly. He saw Teyla nudge Ronon, and they silently left. "Why, John? I know what I am. I'm selfish, and a hypochondriac, and dangerously ill-tempered, and I say mean things to people who don't deserve them. I mean, I _am_ a genius, and even now you gotta admit, I am a handsome man --"

"Yes, dear," John interrupted, and his smile was so beautiful that Rodney shut up and kissed him.

"I'm a moron," Rodney said again as they hobbled to the bed and lay down. John was his to touch and kiss and fuck; he knew John's body so well that within minutes he was shaking beneath Rodney, straining up, starved for Rodney's touch, and the exultation that filled Rodney, the impure bliss of this knowledge made him shake as well.

They struggled out of their clothes, rubbing against each other, kissing, fondling, pinching, and then John grabbed the little clay pot of oil. He smoothed the warming stuff onto Rodney's cock, and then pushed Rodney's fingers into the pot, so he could coat his fingers. Rodney knew what he wanted; not something they did often anymore, but today was special, and he nearly came at the thought. He stroked his hand across John's hip, across his ass, and when John raised himself slightly, into John. "That's enough," John whispered, kissing him, and then grabbed Rodney's cock and slowly settled himself onto it. "Just lie still; let me do this." Rodney didn't have much choice; his knee was aching from his tumble, but not enough to distract him. They stared at each other, John's eyes wide, his mouth open, as he slowly fucked himself on Rodney's cock. Nothing had ever felt this good to Rodney, _nothing_.

"Happy birthday," he whispered, when John lay sated on top of him. He was messy and exhausted, and his heart was swollen with emotions too complex to identify. He kissed the top of John's head, and flipped the sheet over them. The room obligingly darkened. "Many, many more," he said, and it was a kind of prayer.

Elizabeth celebrated her birthday privately with her family, though John and Rodney gave her a statue of a small god made by Bell. Planning for the big party was well underway, annoying Rodney because it drew his people away from what he considered their real work: keeping the city in working order and the food supply steady. He was finally able to work in the gardens again, sitting on a low stool rather than kneeling, and spent three days a week wearing an enormous straw hat and sunblock while weeding and picking vegetables. He'd rather be hunting ZPMs, but he did like knowing there'd be food on the table, and that he'd helped provide it.

The time for the party finally arrived, along with visitors from many of the planets they'd developed trade arrangements with. Everyone from the city and the mainland attended, including Marcia Coulter and her daughter Amanda, who played happily with the other children, watched over by her myriad adopted aunties and uncles, including Rodney. There was so much going on that he felt pulled in a dozen directions; fortunately, Karen was a consummate party planner and clearly had a second career in store for her, and events were well organized despite the chaos.

The people from M6F-321 brought the mushrooms that had made John and Rodney so sick and see visions; John and Elizabeth thanked them formally, and Kavanagh, their new prime minister, behaved regally, something even Rodney admitted he was good at. Bell and Drum were there, though not the abbot, with six ceramic bowls, each a different colour. One of the best gifts, to Rodney's mind, was from the people who created such beautiful fabrics that the Atlantians had little to barter for. They brought reams of heavy material in vibrant colours, including a few square metres in the deep red, the most expensive colour in the galaxy. Kavanagh waxed rhapsodic over that, and Rodney knew he was planning special ceremonial robes for himself, the selfish prick.

John punched his arm lightly. "Stop scowling; you'll scare the nice people," he said.

"Should I run for prime minister?" Rodney asked him, and was only a little hurt when John laughed.

"Don't you have enough to do?"

Which was true, Rodney agreed, though he didn't think it was very nice to be laughed at.

When the gifts were given and speeches made and toasts made and the people from somewhere prayed to the Ancients and the people from somewhere else prayed to the Ancestors and the people from the Planet of the Shouting Men shouted, Halling clapped his hands and tried to call everyone to attention. Since there were several hundred people milling about, serving and being served, talking and teasing and trying to look intelligent, that took a while, until Lorne stood on a table and rang a heavy bell that Bell and Drum had brought.

"Thank you!" Halling shouted, a little red faced. "It is time for the joining."

"Oh, holy shit," Rodney said; he'd almost managed to forget about it.

"Getting cold feet?" John asked him, grinning.

"Shut up. This is all your fault. If you weren't such a _romantic_ . . ."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"John, Rodney," Elizabeth called, and they made their way through the crowd, suffering the smiles and applause and many thumps on the back until they stood before Halling.

He beamed at them. "I have long awaited this day. You have made an old man very happy."

The sun was too hot, Rodney thought, and he wondered if he'd pass out from heat exhaustion or just plain embarrassment. He'd seen dozens of joinings; had teased the participants, danced with them, stood up for some, but never had he pictured himself here. John was the romantic of the family, standing coolly beside him, posture straight for once yet still relaxed. Well, if it made him happy. Someone nudged his knee; he looked down to find Marcia Coulter's daughter Amanda grinning up at him. "Come on up, sweetie," he said, and swung her up to sit on his hip between him and John.

Halling took Elizabeth's hand and raised it above their heads. Marcia took Amanda, who stood on her mother's feet, rocking. Rodney instantly went deaf; all he could hear was a loud buzzing in his head as he watched their mouths move. He felt John take his hand, saw Teyla smile at him while wiping her eyes and Ronon wink at him while Radek gave him a double thumbs up; he tasted the wine John offered him in one of the bowls Bell and Drum had given them, and saw John sip from the same bowl, smiling sweetly at Rodney. Then Radek pushed Rodney into John's arms just as Teyla pushed John toward him, and they collided, and suddenly Rodney could hear again, a roar of approval and laughter. He stared at John.

"You sure you okay with this?" he asked Rodney.

"You moron," Rodney said, and kissed him as passionately as he could, pulling John even closer, cradling him tenderly, because fuck the spectators cheering them on, who were they to John and Rodney? Who needed witnesses, or ceremonies for that matter? He didn't need anything but John, warm and strong and smart and sexy and handsome and somehow, unbelievably, in love with Rodney.

He tried to put all that into this kiss, a kiss for the ages, he thought, smiling through it. "What, what?" John mumbled between kisses, holding Rodney's head, nuzzling his cheek, biting his earlobe in a way that he _knew_ drove Rodney wild. "Think this is funny?"

"Fucking hysterical," Rodney murmured back, and shut John up with another kiss, sucking on his tongue, dropping his hands to John's ass and pulling him even closer.

"All right, gentlemen," Elizabeth said. "You are about as joined as I want to see in public."

Rodney started to laugh, and John seized his hand and held it above their heads, not like Halling and Elizabeth had done but more like a referee declaring the winner. "All right!" he shouted. "Finally!"

Everyone applauded, to Rodney's smug pleasure, and he reached behind John with his free hand to pinch his butt, making him jump and the crowd laugh harder. Then the drumming started, so he turned back to John, kissed him lightly, and began to dance around him. He knew the steps well by now; they'd danced like this many times. Most of the crowd began to dance as well, dividing up in whatever odd pairing had evolved. He saw Ronon and Radek with Gabe, Elizabeth and Lorne with Yvraine, Teyla with Marcia and Amanda, Halling with Jinto and Vesha, Karen and, to his shock, Carson. Rodney paused, and nodded toward them. "It's good to see him," John said. "We'll talk to him later."

Rodney twisted around and found Amanda stamping her feet a-rhythmically as hell. "We need to get her music and dance lessons," he told John, picking her up again. John lifted her above his head, so she sat on his shoulders holding on to his hair, and the three of them began to dance, Rodney moving around them, sweating in the late afternoon sun.

When the sun just touched the horizon, oblate and deeply gold, thin clouds rippling above it as if mirroring the rippling waves below, the drums changed into a steady rhythm, and then abruptly fell silent. Rodney looked up from feeding slices of some apple-like fruit to Amanda to see a row of his friends in front of him and John, who was standing at his side. "John?" he said.

"Dunno."

Carson said, "The choir's been practicing for weeks. This is our gift, to celebrate." Rodney saw tears in his eyes and felt ashamed of being so happy when Carson had lost so much. Except Karen was standing next to him, looking proudly at Carson. Corrigan cleared his throat and turned away from John and Rodney, raising his hands, and Rodney realized what was going to happen. He slid his hand into John's, and kissed the top of Amanda's head.

"_O vos, O vos omnes," _his friends sang.

 

"_Qui transitis per viam,_  
attendite et videre  
si est dolor,  
si est dolor,  
si est dolor,  
si est dolor  
sicut dolor meus."  


Oh all you who pass by, behold and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow.

Rodney leaned his head against John's hip, holding on tightly to his family while his friends' voices wound around and through Atlantis, rising like the rising sun while they struggled against the sorrows of the world. They'd lost so much. Civilians and soldiers; scientists and support. Gall and Abrams; Katie and Kate; Markham and Cadman. There is no sorrow like my sorrow, he thought, but neither is there any joy like mine. John squeezed his hand. Sitting in the early twilight, the smell of the ocean and the gaze of the city and his love for John filled him like music filled his world.

* * *

**City, Redux**

City never sleeps. Her attention flows around and through her spires and corridors, like the ocean's currents; embedded within her structure, iterations of early processes that, after remaining stable for millennia, began to change, to grow, slowly at first and then more quickly. She has learnt anew what it means to be inhabited; more than that, she has learnt anew what it means to love.

Two cells of two different hearts when placed near each other begin to beat in unison. City understands this. If she has a heart, it is the people who inhabit her. For so long she had only Elizabeth, and her heart beat in isolation. They'd both been lonely; Elizabeth while awake, City while Elizabeth slept. Iterations of processes, early and late: her halls ring with voices and music, her people argue and love. Some go, others arrive, some are even born there. Before and after: the long loneliness a caesura, a long silence surrounded by the noise of those she cares for.

Elizabeth in isolation, waking long enough to tend to City's needs, humming to herself as she slowly walks the corridors, repeating the names of those who had come and will come again. One name in particular, the one City remembers as the first in so long to speak to her: John. John came, and he died, and he came again, and he walks her corridors still, his presence a constant comfort, City's constant companion.

City loves him. There are others, and she loves them, too, but she knows they find her whispery presence faint, and some seem frightened of her tender attentions. But he hears her, he attends to her needs, and City loves him. She has loved him for millennia, and loves him when he has gone again.

In all her years, City speaks once, and she speaks too late. She keeps her silence in all the years with her first ones, and during the years with only Elizabeth, and even during the joyous years when they return. She keeps her silence at John's happiness, and she keeps her silence at his bereavement. But when she loses John yet again, she speaks, an exhalation of pain and grief and sorrow so profound the waters roil and her walls tremble.

When the first ones left her, City knew loneliness and loss. John came to her twice, but he will not come again. She remembers him; she will always remember him. Her halls are full, children play and couples love and life fills her as never before, and she cares for them. City never sleeps.

But City remembers.

* * *

Brilliant, patient, inspiring beta by the Empress Wu, Princessofg, Auburnnothenna, Ciderpress, and my dear buddy Mike, with help and encouragement from Namastenancy and Mecurtin.

**Author's Note:**

> The History of Atlantis, Part I, is the story of the original Atlantians, sometimes called Ancients or Alterrans. This is part two, the story of the characters we know.


End file.
